LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

-pS- ^3-59 

Shelf..W--3.5 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



"PLUCKS 



OTHER POEMS 



BY 



/ 



JOSEPH A. WING. 




MONTPELIER, Vt. : 

FREEMAN STEAM PRINTING HOUSE AND BINDERY 
1878. 



Tr 






.NlC| 



Entered accorrling to Act of Congress, in the year IS77, by 

JOSEPH A. WING, 
in tlie Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 



CONTENTS. 



Introduction 7 

Pluck 9 

Man without Pluck 11 

Man of Pluck 18 

Part Two '. 28 

Part Three 39 

MlSCELLANENOUS POEMS. 

Burning of the State House 75 

Rooster Chase 78 

Ode for July 4 80 

Bride's Farewell 81 

( xrecian Bend So 

Dartmouth Centennial 85 

The Peace Jubilee 86 

Christmas H\mn 87 

Our Country and its Banner 88 

Jubilee, 1 >>(')'> ,S9 

The Devil's Drive 90 

To my Album 93 

The Dred Scott Case 94 

Written in a Cemetery 95 

Written in a Ladv's Album \H'> 

What Shall 1 Do ? 97 

Ode 98 

On the Death of Mrs. Bancroft 100 

Dedication Hymn 101 

Widow Brown's Turkeys 102 

Boston Tea Party 108 

Death of Edwin Dillingham 110 

The Persian Queen's Lament Ill 

iirave John Maynard 112 

Capture of Charleston 117 



TO 

My Many Ret.atives and Friends 



THIS BOOK, 



COMPOSED AT INTERVALS AS A RELIEF FROM THE TOIL AND 
STUDY INCIDENT TO MY PROFESSION, AND NOW PUB- 
LISHED, NOT WITH THE EXPECTATION OF WINNING 
FAME OR MAKING MONEY FROM ITS SALE, 
BUT SIMPLY AS GIFTS TO MY FRIENDS 
— TOKENS OF AFFECTION, 

IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED. 



TO MY BOOK. 



Go forth, my little book, devoid of pride : 

Don't boldly venture on the waters wide ; 

Your bark is frail, you must keep near the shore. 

You must not venture where the billows roar. 

If on the land you stay, keep on the plain. 

Try not the mountain's lofty height to gain ; 

Seek not for Fame upon her mountain high, 

You, like the eagle, can't ascend the sky. 

Your wings are short, your feet not made to climb, 

Keep in the valley — shun the ' ' heights sublime" — 

Your proper sphere I trust that you will find. 

To please, instruct and benefit mankind. 

Go, .seek the lowly : do not sad complain 

If carping critics treat you with disdain : 

Go fearless forth : let not their clamor stay 

Your humble course, or bar your onward way. 

Go, and each virtuous man and woman seek. 

You'll cause no blush on modest maiden's cheek ; 

No word or thought upon thy page appears 

That can offend the chastest lady's ears. 

No vice you aid, no crime you palliate. 

You vice exhibit in its normal state ; 

Go, like the brooks that through the valleys glide, 

And greener make the verdure by their side. 

Go, like the dew that silently doth fall 

When o'er the earth night spreads her sable pall ; 



Go you, and zealously mankind entice 

To seek for virtue and to flee from vice. 

Keep on thy lowly way, though ridicule 

Is heaped on you by all the critic school ; 

Let them exclaim "No genius here is found" — 

'Tis true my Pegasus keeps on the ground. 

Though he hath wings he doth but seldom rise- 

And like the eagle boldly sail the skies ; 

I like to ride him when the land's in sight 

My head grows giddy in his upward flight. 

I keep his wings tied down that on the land 

He'll walk, or trot, as I the speed command ; 

Let critics and reviewers have their say, 

But, fearless, onward keep your humble way. 

Turn not for scorn or ridicule aside, ' 

Instruct the ignorant ; the lowly guide ; 

Your task fulfil ; though you're unknown to fame, 

I trust that none will ever curse your name. 

Go forth, and for the public favor sue : — 

The author bids you now a fond adieu. 



^^ P L U C K . " 



Ladies and Gents assembled here — 
Your humble servant doth appear 
And asks attention for a time 
While he repeats in humble rhyme 
A Lecture from his own " machine"'" — 
Which sometimes tinges things with green. 

I think you'll call yourselves in luck — 
The subject for this eve is " Pluck.'" 
Pluck makes the man — and e'en the woman too — 
If you lack Pluck you naught will ever do ; 
You'll sink forgotten in a nameless tomb, 
No flower above your grave will ever bloom ; 
Nothing but grass around your grave will grow, 
And thistles only there will ever blow. 

" O, wad some power the giftie gie us 
To see oursels as ithers see us " — 
Was sung by Burns — and I will try 
To hold the mirror to each eye. 
That all, whatever their degree. 
Within the glass themselves may see. 
And wiser grow from day to day 
As life so swiftly flies away ; 
From many ills your life 'twill save. 
Found 'twixt the cradle and the grave. 



10 

If you, my friends, will patient wait,^ 
The subject for this eve Pll state, 
To show that Pluck is like a "bower " — 
That kings and queens yield to its power, 
ril show a man once blessed with wealth, 
With youth, with talent, virtue, health — 
But lacking Pluck. — Pll show the fate 
That all like him doth sure aw^ait. 
Then I will show to you the luck 
That doth await the men of Pluck ; 
Point out the way they take their stand. 
Show how they're honored in the land. 
Then I will try to show to you 
The various things that Pluck can do. 
Then take you to some mountain height 
And spread the world before your sight ; 
Show you mankind just as they are — 
The thoughts within their breasts laid bare. 

Now view the shadows as they pass 
Along the smooth and polished glass, 
And see if you by chance can spy 
A face familliar to your eye. 
Before you say 'tis A or B 
Be sure 'tis not yourself you see ; 
But be it you or some dear friend 
You'll find where you your life can mend. 
To aid you to improve your life 
While in this world of care and strife. 
Some good advice to all Pll give 
Whicli you should follow while you live- 
Advice to all, to girls and boys. 
To banish grief, increase their joys, 



11 



To aid the farmer in his toil 
To gather protit from the soil : 
Instruct the merchant keen and bold 
The secret art to gather gold. 
Advice unto the doctors give, 
And teach the lawyers how to live ; 
Instruct the priest to conquer sin 
And thus a heavenly crown to win. 
Then to the wife the secret show 
Of happiness found here below : 
Then show the husband how to bless 
His home with peace and happiness ; 
Then show the mother the true way 
To make home hapjDy every day. 



THE MAX WITHOUT PLUCK. 

See yonder man with downcast look pass by. 

Mark you his face — no fire is in his eye ; 

His coat is seedy, and his hat is old. 

His pockets empty of both bills and gold. 

Silent he passess through the busy throng ; 

No friend doth cheer him as he goes along. 

No one is there that old man's hand to clasp 

And warm his heart with friendship's kindly grasp. 

Onward, unnoticed, to his cot he goes. 

Where from the world he buries all his woes : 

There will he dwell unnoted and unknown 

Till Death's cold hand shall claim him as his own. 

It was not always so ; that man hath been 
Blessed and beloved by all his fellow men. 
When he was young he was his father's pride. 
Wealthy and honored when his father died ; 



12 

Modest and bashful, never much in kick — 

The reason why ? he was not blessed with Plucks 

When but a boy he first attended school 

He gained the sobriquet of " honest fool " 

Because his eyes would often fill with tears 

At the rude jests of boys of his own years. 

It is a fact — though you exclaim alas ! — 

To make a noise gold canH compete with brass.. 

Thus at the school he gentle was and mild, 

Loved by his teachers when a little child ; 

And as he grew to manhood still the same, — 

Ask who learned most and they would give his name. 

Though loved by teachers and by all the class 

He quailed to those who always dealt in brass ; 

Though schooPs bright lionors glowed before his eyes. 

Rude boys less learned always took the prize. 

Though much he marveled at his want of luck. 

They should have told him 'twas the want of Pluck :. 

That Pluck could carry to a point so high 

That modest merit ne'er the place could spy ; 

That they who proudly rise on wings of fame, 

And on her lofty temple write each name, 

To gain the height they never trust to luck 

But always put their confidence in Pluck. 

Before he left his father's quiet home 
Through the bright paths in classic fields to roam,. 
To slake his thirst at science deepest fountains 
And make his mark upon her loftiest mountains,. 
He'd always lived a strictly virtuous life. 
He'd never mingled in the village strife. 
Temperate he was as ever man could be. 
From every vice he'd kept himself still free ; 



13 

The rosy wine for him could boast no charms, 
No siren lured him to her willing arms : 
Accursed tobacco ne'er his mouth detiled. 
Its smoke his senses never had beguiled ; 
No love of gaming, with its magic spell. 
Had lured him onward to the gambler's hell ; 
But virtuous, modest, seemingly in luck. 
And would have ever been if blessed with Pluck. 

He went to school — a stranger boy was he, 
A modest, green one — there the butt to be 
Of ruder boys who reign supreme in schools. 
Who treat the freshmen just as they'd treat fools. 
Laughed at his quiet mien, and temperate way, 
The}- taught him youth forever should be gay : 
That wine will warm the blood and pleasure give 
For which the dullest long would wish to li\e ; 
That the cigar, when tired with mental toil 
In tracing science by the midnight oil. 
Would calm the mind, a genial influence shed. 
As curled the smoke around his learned head ; 
That it hath power earth's cares to dri\e away. 
And change to bliss the long and weary da) : 
That cards and dice, cigars and maids and wine. 
Could change dull earth to realms almost divine. 

Too soon, alas! to their advice he yields. 
Alone he cannot walk in learning's fields ; 
First, to his lip the flowing bowl is given. 
And soon he thinks himself in Bacchus' heaven. 
How strange the feeling when the wine flows free ! 
The heart at first is filled with mirth and glee : 
Then, as the wine and evening pass away. 
The hours fly fast with song, and laughter gay ; 
•> 



14 

But when the night is past he seeks his bed 
With slow, uncertain step and aching head. 

Awhile he struggles, but he yields at last, 

The first step ta'en, " the Rubicon is passed" ; 

He can't retreat, although he feels the pain, 

His foes have bound him with an iron chain, 

His pride and self respect, alas ! are gone, 

And at their pleasure they can lead him on. 

Ah, now you see beneath his manly nose 

The frail cigar in all its beauty glows. 

And round his light moustache and scented brow 

The fragrant smoke is graceful curling now. 

The cards are shuffling, and the dice are ringing, 

The wine is tiowing, and my hero singing ; 

But still my hero bashful was as ever, 

He could not shake it oft' — oh, no, no, never! 

Though he could drink and sing and smoke and play 

His bashfulness he ne'er could cast away ; 

Why did he yield? say, was it want of luck? 

No, no I ril tell you — 'twas the want of Pluck. 

His school days o'er, he seeks his home again. 
Modest and bashful as he'd always been ; 
And now around him many an eye of blue. 
And eyes of black, and eyes of hazle hue. 
Were brightly beaming as he passed the street. 
How beat his heart at sound of pretty feet ! 
But oh ! his tongue he never could command ! 
How throbbed his heart at touch of lady's hand I 
And when alone, with all a lover's care, 
Some speech he would compose to lady fair ; 
And then, with all a schoolboy's fancy, he 
The speech repeated to a stump or tree — 



15 

Calling it Mary, Sarah, or the name 
Of her whose eyes had set his heart in flame. 
Then without blushes all her praise could speak, 
But in her presence crimson was each cheek ; 
And oh ! his bashful tongue refused to tell 
What to the tree or stump 'twould speak so well. 
Bright eyes and rosy cheeks and laughter light 
Drove from his bed the god of sleep at night. 
Long on the blushing fair he cast his eyes, 
And fondly wished to seize some lovely prize ; 
To find the time he put his trust in luck, 
But oh ! he'd better far relied on Pluck. 

Within the village in his native town 

There lived a deacon, and his name was Brown ; 

He'd many a ship upon the stormy main. 

He'd stores well filled, where wealth he fast did gain 

Broad lands had he along the river fair. 

He had one daughter — she his only heir — 

The only heir to all his wealth and land. 

She'd many a suitor for her heart and hand. 

For she was young, tall, slender, pleasing, fair, 

With modest downcast eyes, and auburn hair, 

Learned and wise — as village belles all are. 

My hero saw her : marvelled at her charms. 

And longed to clasp her in his loving arms ; 

Oft to the deacon's would he wend his way 

Just as the sun was closing up the day. 

There with the deacon and his wife he'd chat, 

Play with the dog, and hold the deacon's cat ; 

But to the daughter little did he say — 

Thus passed the time for many a weary day. 

Each day he would resolve his love to tell. 

But when he saw her, quick his courage fell. 



If) 

He could not speak of love, his tongue was mute, 

Still he resolved that he would press his suit. 

At last, grown weary of his long delay 

And hope deferred while years had passed away, 

She wed another beau, a man, alas I 

Willi less f)f brains, but well sup|)lied with brass. 

My hero scarce survived the dreadlul shock : 
His hopes were wrecked upon an unknown rock 
Not marked or named upon his chart of life. 
For he had fondl)' hoped to call her wife. 
He knew no rival for the dear one's hand 
'Till at the altar they did loving stand : 
Then, with a breaking heart, he cursed his luck — 
J h might have wed her if he'd had the Fluck. 

When he arrived of age he took his stand 
Among the rich and honored in the land : 
Hut here again his chance (;f fortune failed — 
if obstacles beset his path he quailed. 
He {|uailed before the bustling, busy throng 
That crowded him aside and passed along: 
For far l)ehind he always could be found — 
Pluck forms the front and merit the background. 
On every ma]) of life we chance to view 
Sucii is tiie fact, and what I tell is true. 

\i he designed rich purchases to make. 
Advice of all his friends he first must take; 
Consult them all, and their opinions weigh. 
And think the subject o'er from day to day. 
But when at last to close the trade he tries. 
He finds, alas I that i^luck has seized the prize; 
While of the trade he talked from day to day, 
Pluck had stepped in and stole the prize away. 



17 

Thus all his trades that well would pay the cost, 
While doubting, thinking, he forever lost. 
'Tis ever thus : the man who does not trade 
On his own judgment ne'er a fortune made : 
If he consults his friends 'twill cause delay, 
And give Pluck time to snatch the ])rize away. 

While he had cash for friends he did noi lack. 
But when cash failed each turned on him his back ; 
While he had cash each man of him could borrow. 
On promises of payment on the morrow : 
To none had he the courage to say nay, 
Of many never did he get his pay. 

Thus robijed b\' friends while round the social bowl 
Where generous wine could sooth the troubled soul, 
Where curled the smoke from many a light cigar — 
Formed by the hands of maids who dwell afar 
On Cuba's isle, whose fame he loved to tell, 
Where Spain's dark daughters shall forever dwell — 
He happy was until his cash had flown. 
When that was gone they left him all alone. 
Those who hung nnmd him when the sun did shine. 
Ate at his board, and drank his sparkling wine. 
Now know him not : and if they chance to meet 
Their former friend while passing through the street, 
They pass him by unnoticed and unknown. 
For few acquaintance with the ])oor will fjwn. 
Silent he pass.'s, cursing his ill-luck — 
All his misfortunes came from want of Pluck. 



18 



'IHE MAN OF PLUCK, 



Now turn again and view the passing throng. 
That through the crowded street press fast along. 
See yonder man now passing through the streets. 
Noticed and honored by each man he meets ; 
See every man that chance to pass him by, 
Politely bows and strives to catch his eye. 
That man is rich : he boasts his ample store, 
His ships, like bees, are constant gathering more : 
His friends exclaim, "O, what a man for luck!'' 
But he succeeds because he's blest with Pluck. 

It was not always so : that man was born 
The heir of poverty, the child of scorn ; 
He in a ruined hut his first breath drew, 
Where piercing winds around his cradle blew, 
And through the crazy roof the rain drops poured 
When the fierce tempest through the forest roared : 
His youthful dress was such as wealth bestows 
On the rude l^eggar to appease his woes. 

But years rolled on, he grew to be a youth, 
A mother taught him hones cy and truth ; 
Though poor and lowly, still her darling boy 
She watched and nurtured with a mother's joy. 
Calmed his grieved spirit when he chanced to view 
Rich boys decked out in pants and jacket new ; 
Taught him to rise soon as the morning sun, 
To labor constant till the day was done 
To aid her earn each day their daily bread ; 
And by the firelight, e'er he went to bed, 
She taught him first the plain and simple rules 
Of reading, writing, which are taught in schools. 



19 

Thus, b\- the lirelight, hours he'd pass away 
While other children were engaged in play. 

All day he toiled, and when the da\- was done 

Home to his mother's cot he quickly run. 

And there the evening spent his mind to store 

With learning, better than the golden ore 

Of California's mine or India fair, 

Or gems that Asia and (jolconda bear. 

There in that humble cot of want and woe, 

A mother taught his heart the right to know ; 

Taught him the way of honesty and truth, 

That honest toil would ne'er disgrace his youth. 

That if he dwelt at home or roamed afar, 

Virtue was still the constant polar star ; 

That from its glorious light he ne'er must stray 

Though gold should tempt or sirens point the way. 

If fame's bright temple he would ever see 

He must press on, whate'er the dangers be ; 

To gain her temple ne'er to trust in luck, 

But trust in toil and energy and Pluck. 

A wealthy neighboring merchant watched with joy 
The acts and manners of the noble boy ; 
Unknown by him he watched him e\'ery day, 
Marked him at work, at home and at his play : 
Tested his virtues, tried his temper well. 
Then to his home he took the boy to dwell. 

How changed the scene I he dw^ells in palace gay, 
Sports on the marble floors in youthful play : 
No more the midnight wind his ears appall, 
Or round his lowly bed the rain drops fall. 
His days of want and woe are gone and past, 
He's found a home, a home that long will last ; 



20 

The truth is clear, that boy will be in luck, 
For he has virtue, energy and Pluck. 

Now watch the boy for he is bound to rise, 
He seeks for fame and means to win the prize ; 
Wealth he will gather, learning's path will tread, 
And worldly honors gather round his head. 
But he who seeks the road to fame to measure 
Must never turn from toil to seek for pleasure. 

The man of old who sought the Olympic prize 

From his rude bed at early morn must rise ; 

Toil through the day the ponderous weight to throw. 

The bar to pitch, or o'er the race to go. 

His limbs to toil for years he must inure, 

Privations bear and great fatigue endure ; 

And when at night his daily task was done, 

And in the west sunk down the blazing sun. 

No flowing bowl his thirsty lips await, 

No downy bed his limbs to enervate ; 

On a rude plank he made his humble bed, 

A block of wood was pillow for his head. 

Naught did he eat but that which strength would give, 

If he would win on frugal fare must live ; 

He must not taste did dainties bless his eyes, 

Hard he must toil if he would win the prize. 

Thus "tis with boys, whatever their path in life. 

They all should toil to meet the coming strife. 

When they go forth and leave their childhood's home, 

Perchance in distant lands fore'er to roam. 

To win a name they ne'er should trust to luck, 

But trust to temperance, honesty and Pluck. 

The boy now seated at the merchant's home. 
No longer friendless through the streets to roam, 



21 

With ready hand his task would quickly do, 

He did it cheerfully and faithful too. 

With work and study time flew fast away, 

And he grew wiser with each passing day. 

But why take time his progress to relate ? 

Triumph on triumph must on him await 

Wlio works with will a noble prize to gain, 

Who swerves not though he meets with toil and pain, 

Who with an iron will still onward goes, 

Who fears not faithless friends or open foes. 

Whom scorn or slander cannot lead astray 

When faith and honor point to him the way. 

My story's short, he rises fast. 

He's partner in the store at last. 

The merchant had a daughter fair, 

She was his only child and heir, 

She dearly loved the noble boy, 

The merchant marked their love with joy ; 

He felt his bosom glow with pride 

As they stood at the altar-side 

A noble groom and lovely bride. 

Old Time flew on, day followed day. 
The fleeting years passed fast away ; 
And as they passed, his prudent hand 
Collected wealth from every land ; 
Gathered from every sea and shore 
The gems of price and golden ore. 
Now in his spacious mansion gay 
Are girls and boys in youthful play ; 
As through its halls they gaily spring 
Their joyous shouts do merry ring. 

The merchant, with his locks of gray. 
Unto the toml) hath passed away : 



22 

And now the boy, of birth so low, 
His lands and gold with pride can show, 
And say 'twas won by toil and Pluck 
And not by accident or luck. 

Now turn to the historic page 
And trace events from age to age, 
And gaze upon each favored name 
Now written on the rolls of fame ; 
See if their place they owe to luck 
Or owe to constant toil and Pluck. 

In Macedon there lived a boy, 
A nation hailed his birth with joy. 
The wildest steed the boy could tame, 
He waked the nation to a flame ; 
His men he led from field to field. 
His foes they wildly fly or yield. 
Onward he goes with constant toil. 
From cities sacked he gathers spoil : 
Triumphant on the conqueror goes 
Through(>ut the world in search of foes : 
Till o'er all lands his banner flies, 
And then the boy sits down and cries 
Because no foe his pathway bars, 
And he can't reach the moon or stars. 

Next view the great Napoleon 
When in its zenith glowed his sun ; 
Before its blaze how quailed the foe 
On thy red field, Borodino I 
Marengo's plain, and Lodi's bridge, 
On Egypt's sands, the Alpine ridge. 
Where his proud banners swept the foe 
Before them as by torrent's flow. 



23 

Until his sun, so bright and true, 
Was veiled in night at Waterloo. 

That man was once unknown to fame. 
He left his home to win a name — 
His island home in Corsica — 
A name to win, a part to play, 
Upon the busy stage of life. 
And mingle in the fearful strife 
W^here restless spirits, keen and bold, 
Were gathering laurels, power, and gold. 

Although he rose from humble life, 
He fearless mingled in the strife 
That through the nation loud did ring 
And headless left her feeble king. 
From rank to rank he doth advance, 
Until he guides the arms of France, 
And all his foes in terror feel 
The power of his avenging steel. 

He constant toiled from day to day. 
He loved the wild and bloody fray ; 
The same on Egypt's fertile shore 
As where the Russian cannon's roar ; 
The same amid the Alpine snow. 
Where winter winds did furious blow. 
As when 'neath Egypt's burning sun 
He battles fought and victories won ; 
The same on St. Helena's shore, 
When all his feats of arms were o'er, 
As in his most victorious day, 
When Europe trembled at his sway. 

Napoleon wore as sweet a smile 
When banished to fair Elba's isle, 



24 

As when in Russia's nortliern sky 
He saw his eagles proudly fly. 
He won his fame by toil and Pluck, 
And not by accident or luck. 

Now turn again to (xaul's bright sky. 
O'er history's page now turn your eye ; 
Turn iDack through man}- a weary year, 
Summon the actors to appear. 
Bid England's Henrys to advance, 
Call all the noble sons of France, 
Until the battle field we see. 
And hear the shouts of victory. 
See England's banners sweep the sky. 
The hosts of France before them fly : 
The field is cumbered with the d}ing, 
The king of France in terror flying, 
His armv routed, killed on ta'en. 
His noblest lifeless on the plain, 
They flee in haste themselves to sa\e 
From prison, torture, or the grave — 
The king of France flies in despair 
While shouts of victory fill the air. 
All, all seemed lost, his crown and all. 
His kingdom tottering to its fall : 
His nobles could no comfort bring — 
He soon must yield to England's king. 

Ikit see }()n tall and slender maid ' 
In humble peasant's dress arrayed : 
Modest and bashful is her mien. 
Unused to public gaze, 1 ween. 

1 This is not strictly according to history, and perhaps hardly 
comes within the poet's license, ))iit is in substance true as to her free- 
ing Franco IVoni the power of England. 



25 



She ne'er had seen the battle plain, 
Or trod the field among the slain ; 
She was unused to war's alarms, 
And ne"er had heard the din of arms, 
Yet to her king, on bended knee, 
She promised glorious victory. 
If she might lead his broken band 
She promised to redeem the land 
From every foe, and quickly bring 
Unto his throne the flying king. 

Now see her on her prancing steed, 
The bravest knights she now doth lead ; 
Before her wild and piercing eye 
See, see the routed squadrons fly I 
Where'er she moves her foes retire. 
On armor bright her sword strikes fire ; 
Where'er the fight doth hottest grow 
There you can see her plume of snow ; 
Though spears and arrows round her fly 
All harmless pass the maiden by. 
The battle o'er the maid they bring 
And Joan of Arc kneels to the king : 
" Great king," she said. " my task is o'er, 
Thy foes have gone from every shore. 
Thy haughty British foes have fled 
Or silent slumber with the dead. 
Thy lilies now triumphant fly — 
Hear, hear the victors' joyous cry ! 
Now far and wide the glad notes ring. 
Now fare you well, my honored king ; 
And as my days of toil are o'er 
I'll seek mv humble cot once more. 



26 



And till thy servant's dying day 
For you, my king, Til constant pray.''' 
Say, was France saved by chance or luck? 
Or was it that brave maiden's Pluck 
That checked the flying troops of France,, 
And fearless guided the advance 
And led them on from field to field 
Till unto France the Britons >ield? 

Now turn your eyes to Plymouth Rock, 
See gathered there a little flock : 
It was a cold December day, 
The Mayflower at her anchor lay, 
And on her deck, for praise and prayer, 
See men and matrons gathered there 
Who left their homes on England's shore,. 
And fearless crossed the waters o'er, 
In the New World to seek a home 
Wliere foot of tyrant ne'er shall come. 

In fancy, with them take your stand 

And turn your eyes upon the land ; 

See the dark forest proudly rise 

Where'er to land you turn your eyes. 

There through the night the wolf doth howl, 

And there the bear doth furious growl. 

And there the pather wildly springs. 

And there the Indian war-whoop rings. 

These men heed not the winds that blow. 

They heed not now the falling snow. 

But on that wild and friendless shore , 

They seek a home where evermore 

They can in peace their God adore. 

Before that small and fearless band 
The pathless forests darkly stand ; 



27 

Before these men, from day to day, 
The forests wild pass fast away. 
See dwellings rise where late the wood 
In all its ancient grandeur stood ; 
The bears and wolves flee fast away, 
And e'en the red man cannot stay. 
The farms are cleared, see cities rise 
With temples pointing to the skies ; 
Where late we saw the birch canoe 
The mills and factories meet our view ; 
Where late the red man chased the deer 
A thousand lowing herds appear ; 
The hills where late the wolf did keep 
See now are white with flocks of sheep ; 
And where the Indian gought his prey 
The iron steed now takes its way ; 
And where the Indian late held sway 
A powerful nation dwells to-day. 

What cleared the fields and raised the grain ? 

What built the cities on the plain ? 

What leveled down the mountains' side. 

And bridged the rivers swift and wide ? 

The factories built the loom to speed? 

Chained to the car the iron steed ? 

Called down the lightning from the sky 

And bade it on our errands fly? 

Say, was it accident or luck. 

Or was it science, toil and Pluck? 



28 



PART SECOND. 



THE WORLD AS IT IS TO-DAY 

Now turn from history's page away 

And view the world as 'tis to-day, 

As seen from some tall mountain height 

Without a cloud to dim the sight ; 

And with a magic glass the eye 

Will mark the scenes that pass it by. 

Now watch with me the passing throng, 

See countless millions press along ; 

See every class, the young, the old, 

The weak, the lame, the strong, the bold : 

See youth in health, devoid of care. 

See trembling age, with hoary hair : 

But trembling age and youthful bloom 

Are hastening onward to the tomb ; 

And as they journey to their rest. 

What different thoughts inspire each breast. 

How few are thinking of the day 
When they from earth must pass away ; 
And fewer still prepared for Heaven 
If the dread call this day were given. 
How few there are that worship God, 
And joyfully kiss the chastening rod, 
Though all can see, from hour to hour. 
The works of an Almighty Power, 
Who for our light hath made the sun, 
And round it made the planets run ; 



29 

Placed o'er the earth the sky of bhie, 
With stars Uke diamonds shining through, 
And constant watches o'er them all — 
Unless He wills, no sparrows fall. 
He sees us when we laugh or weep. 
And guards our pillow while we sleep ; 
Yet, though He guards us night and day, 
His love how little we repay. 
But there are some who constant toil, 
Whose lamps are trimmed and filled with oil. 
Who all their God's commands obey. 
And patient wait the destined day 
When they in joyous notes shall sing 
The praises of their Lord and King. 

What seek the crowd that press along 
With eyes so keen and steps so strong? 
Except the few who love God's name 
The rest are seeking gold and fame. 
But many try in what they do 
To worship God and Mammon too : 
To toil for gold each working day 
And on the Sabbath sing and pray. 
They cheat and lie throughout the week 
And Sundays of God's mercy speak. 
And fraud and gold and pride and fame 
Combine with Jesus' holy name. 

And now in j^roof of what I say 
Go to the church with me to-day, 
And while the priest is setting forth 
The terrors of God's holy wrath. 
Calling on them to come to God 
And thus escape the threatening rod ; 



30 



Points out the charms of Heaven divine, 
With streets of gold and gems that shine. 
The glorious crown that each may win 
Who turns to Christ and conquers sin ; 
Points out the way that they must come — 
Like little children to their home — 
Trusting in God that they shall be 
His children through eternity : 
Believing in Christ's word as given 
That they shall dwell with Him in Heaven : 
That Christ did love frail man so well 
He came awhile on earth to dwell 
And take from man his sins away 
And save him from that wrathful day 
When saints to God shall bend the knee 
And sinners from His presence flee. 

He came not as the conqueror comes, 

With horsemen, banners, spears and drums, 

For men of rank and high estate 

Will rarely enter Heaven's gate ; 

But to the meek and low are given 

The pleasures that are found in Heaven. 

Lo, in a manger He was born. 

Of lowly birth, the child of scorn ; 

And while from place to place He fled, 

He had no place to lay His head. 

He healed the sick. He cured the blind. 

And quieted the troubled mind ; 

The winds and waves, at His behest, 

Were stilled upon the sea's rough crest. 

The dead at His command have risen. 

And He hath ope'd the way to Heaven ; 

And pointed how the meek and low. 

When flames shall rise and tempests blow, 



31 



Shall follow in the road He trod 

And join Him round the throne of God, 

While all the proud, the rich and great, 

In fear and trembling shall await 

The sentence which, their judgments tell. 

Will soon consign their souls to Hell. 

While thus the priest vile sin portrays. 
If round the church you chance to gaze 
And view the crowd assembled there, 
How many, think you, are at prayer? 
How many, by the standard given. 
Are there prepared to enter Heaven? 
How many, think you, daily bless 
The widow and the fatherless? 
And do they all the hungry feed? 
The naked clothe in time of need? 
The sick relieve? the humble raise 
And not demand of man the praise? 
And don't they let their left hands know 
The good their right hands sometimes do ? 

In the front pew you there behold 
Miss F, arrayed in silk and gold, 
The fairest maid with sweetest smile. 
And bonnet of the latest style. 
Dressed a la mode with greatest care. 
In newest fashion is her hair ; 
And all that art can do or tell 
She's done to be the reigning belle. 

Yet still she with the saints can pray. 
And claims her sins are washed away ; 
And oft partakes the bread and wine 
Arrayed in silks and gems that shine. 



32 



Her gems are of the richest mould, 
Her bible-clasps are pearls and gold ; 
The cushion where she kneels to pray 
With gold and diamonds glitters gay. 
And does she treasure up each word 
That from the priest this day she's heard ? 
Why does her bosom heave the sigh? 
Why stands the tear-drop in her eye ? 
Is it his words that touch her heart 
And cause the pearly tear to start 
To think that friends and kin should go 
Down to the realms of endless woe? 

Ah, "tis no word the priest has said, 
For friends no pearly tear is shed ; 
Far other thoughts her bosom swell — 
What was the text? she cannot tell — 
She has not heard a word to-day 
Of all the priest so well did say. 

When first to church this day she came 
Herself to show, her homage claim. 
Miss B, her rival, she saw there, 
Dressed, like herself, with greatest care ; 
But ah ! the pang that touched her breast- 
Miss B was far the richest drest ! 
Just from the city — latest style — 
And then she did so sweetly smile ! 
■Twas this that caused Miss F such woe, 
'Twas this that caused the tears to flow. 

How man}- thus to church will go. 
Like fair Miss F, themselves to show ; 
For each new dress they have to wear 
Will call them to the house of prayer. 



33 

There's naught will tempt a maid to pray 
Like splendid dress or bonnet gay ; 
Unless these treasures meet her eyes 
God's house is left, religion dies. 

The task is vain for me to show 
The thoughts that through the bosoms flow 
Of maids and matrons gathered there 
Within that house of praise and prayer. 
While some do dress and bonnet scan, 
Some witching eyes are turned on man. 
There you may see the glances sly 
From roguish youth and maiden's eye. 
Which to those dear one's speak so well 
What loashful tongues refuse to tell. 

There's Deacon J of great renc^wn 

For piety within the town ; 

A pillar of the church divine. 

Partaker of the bread and wine ; 

A banker rich, a merchant bold. 

Whose store is tilled with wealth and gold : 

See him at church, what stately grace! 

Religion shines o"er all his face. 

Now see him in the deacon's chair — 

What is he thinking of while there? 

Say, is it of a Savior's grace 

That now lights up his manly face ? 

Is it religion's charms divine 

That cause his eyes so bright to shine? 

Is it the joys from Heaven that flow 

That gives his face so rich a glow? 

Ah, no ! 'tis not the joys of Heaven 

This flush unto his face hath given. 



34 

But yesterday there to him came 
(To you I will not speak his name) 
A brother merchant, long his friend, 
Who asked him if he would not lend 
A thousand pounds? he answered " No- 
But friend, Til tell you, I will go. 
Your goods Til buy, the cash TU pay, 
And take them off this very day : 
But, sir, a discount you must make. 
And ril select the goods I take." 

The trade is closed, the cash is paid, 
And in his store the goods are laid ; 
And while the priest talks loud of fate 
The deacon thinks the trade was great. 
He longs to have the service o'er 
That he may enter sly his store, 
With blinds fast closed from every eye, 
Except the God who reigns on high, 
His goods to mark and pack away 
For sale upon the coming day. 

But while impatient thus he waits, 
He casts his eyes on neighbor Bates ; 
He sees consumption's hectic glow 
Flash darkly o'er his face of snow. 
*' Ah, me I" the deacon heavy sighs, 
" That man is sick, and when he dies 
The town must for his children care, 
And I must pay for them my share. 
The man owes me — the sum is small, 
If I collect 'twill take his all 
And leave him sick in deep distress, 
Wliat he will do I cannot guess. 



35 

But Fve a wife and children too, 
For them I must collect my due : 
Poor Bates ! I pity much thy fate, 
But for my pay I cannot wait." 

Such are the men you constant meet, 

Such dwell in every lane and street ; 

Through the whole week they'll cheat each day, 

And Sundays they will sing and pray : 

Such are the men deserve the rod — 

They do not love or w^orship God. 

Now turn unto the crowd again 

That swift are rushing o'er the plain. 

See yon beaiv so trim and neat, 

Dressed so slick and smells so sweet. 

Scent of musk and oil of rose 

Fill the air where'er he goes. 

Look him o'er, and search him round,. 

In his pockets may be found — 

Hold ! you should the secret keep. 

Let those bottles quiet sleep ! 

Filled with liquor, oh, ye gods ! 

Sure to " kill at forty rods." 

In those pockets deep they lie. 

Not designed for beauty's eye ; 

By their side, not distant far, 

Lies the fragrant, loved cigar. 

With cigars and bottles lay 

Cards to pass the hours away, 

With pistols and a bowie knife 

Lest mirth perchance should end in strife. 

In those pockets' ample fold 

There is neither bills nor gold ; 



36 

Wealth he squanders not away 
Bread to buy or debts to pay ; 
The little cash comes always handy 
To fill the flask with " r. g. '' brandy. ^ 
If devoid of cash, alas ! 
He is well supplied with brass. 

He can boast his rings and chains, 

Hair supplies the place of brains ; 

On his head how sleek his hair, 

Black the boots he deigns to wear. 

Graceful tied is his cravat. 

Newest fashion is his hat : 

On his lip the moustache curls, 

Sweet he smiles on all the girls ; 

With what grace he wields a fan I 

Is not he a ladies' man ? 

When he walks the street in pride 

Honest merit steps aside ; 

Worth and talent can't compare 

With scent of musk and well-curled hair. 

By him see yon lovely belle. 

Bound as by a magic spell ; 

See her bosom heave with pride 

As she lingers by his side. 

She may well deserve his care. 

From the barber's came the hair 

Which doth deck her lovely head 

And graceful o'er her shoulders spread. 

The rosy cheek, the neck of snow, 

Paris shops on her bestow ^ 

And those teeth so pure and white. 

Giving to the eye delight. 

1 Commonly called " rot-gut " brandy— a base compound of neu- 
tral spirit, drugs, &c. 



37 

Which so well the mouth do till, 
Owe their charms to dental skill ; 
And that bust, divinely fair, 
Venus might be proud to wear. 
When encircled by his arms 
Owes to cotton all its charms. 

See, as arm in arm they go. 
Don't they make a goodly show ? 
As they mingle in the crowd 
None like them appear so proud : 
I can hear the crowd all say 
There are none so fair and gay. 
And as through the dance they swim 
She is just a match for him — 
Just a match, for neither one 
A noble deed has ever done. 
No blessings follow where the\- tread 
For naked clothed, or hungry fed : 
The only bliss that they possess 
Is sensual pleasure, pom]) and dress. 

See "mid the crowd the constant strife 
Of those who walk in humble life 
To imitate, in state and dress, 
The men who countless gold possess. 
At church \-()u see them dressed as gay 
As those who can their millions sway ; 
Perchance those silks ma\' cover rags, 
Or garments made of coi^'ee-bags. 
Their costly dress they show with pride. 
Their poverty they strive to hide. 

(jO to their homes, then tell to me, 
When you come back, what there you see 
4 



38 



You'll find the parlor, Tve no doubt, 

With chairs and sofas well set out ; 

A carpet, threadbare, brushed and neat, 

With rugs on which to rest the feet. 

But do not put the rugs aside 

Lest from the eye a hole they hide ; 

And to the kitchen do not go 

For fear you will not like the show ; 

They would not like to have your eyes 

Survey their pantry, meats and pies. 

Or e'en an inventory make 

Of puddings, jellies, fruit and cake. 

There three fair maidens now possess, 
Between them all, one splendid dress — 
So fitted that 'tis worn by all — 
But one can go to church or ball. 
Or meet you when you chance to call. 
To please you she will sing or play, 
Her sisters all have gone away 
She'll say, if one you wish to see, 
"Perhaps she'll be at home by three. 
And if you wish to see her then. 
Be pleased, my dear, to call again." 
Much pleasure they must thus forego 
Who vainly strive to make a show. 



39 



PART THIRD. 



Now ni point out the way to live, 
And some advice to all Pll give, 
Which if you'll follow, you will say 
For coming here you've got your pay. 
And as the years pass swiftly o'er 
For this you'll bless me more and more. 

Ye youths, to you I first will speak, 
Your peace and happiness I seek ; 
And -though you cannot all win fame 
You all can win an honored name. 
None, who with common sense is blessed. 
Of common health and strength possessed. 
But wealth can win, and take his stand 
Among the honored in the land. 

Are you a clerk ? obey with care 
Whatever your master's wishes are ; 
His interests guard from day to day, 
And doubly watch when he's away. 
And when your daily task is o'er 
Read some good book the mind to store 
With wealth that ne'er on wings will fly. 
But always serve you till you die. 
And never try to make a dash 
By stealing your employer's cash ; 
Or spirits raise or sorrows drown 
By pouring rum or brandy down ; 
Or make your midnight slumbers light 
By eating meat or pie at night ; 



40 

Or ever dream the siren's kiss 
Is foretaste of connubial bliss. 

Are you a humble farmer's boy ? 

How sweet the life you now enjoy! 

You cannot dream the tears that flow 

From vice and sin, from want and woe. 

You happy toil from day to day, 

Rise with the lark and sing as gay. 

Without a thought of grief or sorrow 

Or dread of want upon the morrow. 

You happy tillers of the soil, 

With hands and limbs inured to toil, 

Don't fear to meet the millionaire, 

Or proudest lord, or lady lair. 

Though plain and humble is your dress 

And they rich clothes and gems possess. 

Their stores of gold and gems that shine 

They'd give for health and strength like thine. 

Have Pluck to toil each working day. 

Don't pine for clothes and trinkets gay. 

But let your object be to get 

A farm and stock uncursed l)y debt. 

Ye youths who now on school attend. 
Let me advise you as a friend 
Your teachers always to obey 
And from your class ne'er be away. 
Let no excuse but sickness be, 
For lesson lost, e^er made by thee ; 
Do every task the rules require 
And for the honors thus aspire. 
When in the west down sinks the sun. 
And when the daily task is done. 



41 

Then you, with spirits light and gay, 
Should blithely join in work or play, 
Such games as health and strength bestow 
And cause the blood to lightly flow 
And quickly through the system dance. 
And give the eye a keener glance, 
And health and strength again renew 
That you the morrow's task may do. 

In ancient days "twas wisely said 

" Look not upon the wine when red :" 

Oh, never let your youthful lip 

The flowing goblet fondly sip : 

Oh, never on the wine cup gaze 

Though Bacchus crown the bowl with bays ; 

Though beauty's eyes, when gleaming bright. 

And lovely lips to drink invite. 

Though it ma}- tempt the youthful eye. 

Have Pluck to pass the poison by 

Before it is too late to save 

Your body frcMii the drunkard's grave. 

Let not tobaccf) ever spread 

Her filthy favors round thy head : 

Fill not thy lungs with its foul breath. 

To all that live it causes death. 

Save man and worms^ naught else is found. 

That swims the sea or walks the ground 

Or through the air on light wings fly. 

But fed on it will quickly die. 

Whatever the form in which 'tis seen 

'Tis hateful, poisonous and unclean ; 

1 1 am told there is also a species of goat that will eat tobacco, 
and will acquire this disgusting habit. 



42 



In snuff, though great is its renown, 

The yellow, maccaboy and brown, 

Though some may hail them all with joy, 

All finer feelings they destroy : 

They give to man a filthy air. 

And soon his senses will impair. 

And woman, gentle, virtuous, pure. 

Its presence never should endure ; 

She may refiise, e'en in a huff, 

A kiss from heads when filled with snufi\ 

Let not the taste, that Nature gave. 

For weed so deadly ever crave ; 

Though loved and honored in the land, 

" Lone Jack,'' or "Honey Dew,''' or "hand, 

Shun, shun them as you would the grave, 

Or else they'll make of you a slave ! 

A slave to filth, a slave to care, 

A slave whose chains are worse to bear 

Than any on the southern shore 

Where rebel cannon thundering roar. 

Think of the filth, where'er you go. 
That constant from your mouth will flow, 
In parlor gay, in hall or bower. 
At noonday meal or evening hour. 
Or if perchance you wish to sip 
The nectar sweet from beauty's lip, 
'Twill be as said by voice divine — 
She'll cast her pearls before a swine. 
And yet no swine — pray be content — 
E'er gave to earth so vile a scent 
As lips when filled with weed like this 
When proffered for a loving kiss. 



43 



God watches man with constant care, 
Man's lungs He made to breathe pure air 
When from the earth foul vapors rise 
With storms the air He purifies ; 
The human lungs, by God's pure mind. 
For smoke-pipes never were designed. 

When weary, at the close of day, 
You on your couch reclining lay. 
While underneath your sharpening nose 
The frail cigar in splendor glows. 
While thus reclined, with every breath, 
You're drinking in the seeds of death ; 
Tlie seeds that rapidly will shoot 
And soon perchance will bear ripe fruit. 
The fruit may be the hectic glow 
O'er wasted form and cheek of snow, 
Or trembling limbs and yellow skin 
That shows dyspepsia dwells within 
The temple, now that's filled with pain. 
Where perfect health so late did reign. 

And happy you if dies life's flame 
Undimmed by poverty or shame ; 
For where Tobacco holds her reign 
Intemperance follows in her train ; 
They constant travel hand in hand. 
And riot through our happy land. 
Shun them, whatever form they wear. 
Or to your grave their chains you'll bear. 

If you from Fame would win a prize 
Upon her temple fix your eyes ; 
Although the path is rough and steep. 
Toil on, toil on and constant keep 



44 



The height in view : don't turn away 
For ease or pleasure night or day : 
The more the talent you possess 
The harder you should onward press. 
If you in pleasure's fields should tread 
Those late behind will get ahead ; 
How toil can win, however slow. 
By fable I to you will show : 



FABLE. 

A Turtle did a wager lay 
With a Rabbit, young and gay. 
That he the Rabbit would outrun 
In any race agreed upon. 
'"Tis done!" the Rabbit quick replied, 
" We'll run upon the mountain side, 
And he who first the height shall make 
A splendid prize shall surely take."" 

They started for the mountain top, 
The Rabbit gave a lively hop 
And instant left his foe behind 
Alone the untried path to find. 
The Turtle up the mountain pressed. 
His eye fixed ever on the crest ; 
He constant toiled, ne'er turned aside 
For ease or pleasure, thirst or pride. 
He rested neither day nor night 
Until he reached the mountain height, 
And on the highest point sat down 
And calmly looked o'er tower and town. 



45 



He gazed o'er valley, hill and plain 

To find the Rabbit, but in vain ; 

And though he'd reached the mountain height. 

The scornful Rabbit wan't in sight. 

The Rabbit, when he leaped away. 
Thus to nimself did proudly say : 
" The race I'll win : he goes so slow 
That ril seek pleasure as I go. 
ril sport as I go up the mountain, 
ril drink at every bubbling fountain, 
The flowers Fll crop from daisies gay. 
And with young rabbits sport and play, 
ril rest me in some fairy bower 
From burning sun and drenching shower ; 
With some dear rabbit, young and fair. 
The night Fll spend in pleasures rare. 
And when Aurora's blushing light 
Shall first invade the realms of night. 
When with the dawn my eyes are blest 
I'll seek at once the mountain's crest ; 
So slow is that poor Turtle's gait 
I there for her full long must wait.'" 

As he had said, in sport and play 
The winged hours flew fast away ; 
At times he leaped from flower to flower. 
Now sported in some fairy bower, 
Followed where pleasure led the way. 
Mixed with the thoughtless and the gay. 
Thus idly did he spend his hours, 
Unscorched by sun, undrenched by showers. 
Until at last the mountain"'s height 
Rose full and clear before his sisrht. 



46 

How sunk his spirits late so gay, 
When, silent, there before him lay, 
With smiling face and beaming eyes. 
The late scorned Turtle with the prize ! 

So 'tis with boys of talents rare 
Who have not Pluck hard toil to bear ; 
They find, when many years have fled, 
The turtles always are ahead. 

And, while you toil for fame and place, 
Fly from the siren's fond embrace ; 
Though decked in colors gay and bright 
They're charnel-houses painted white. 

You'll find it is a pleasure rare 
To often meet the virtuous fair. 
And join with them fi-om day to day 
In modest sport and youthful play. 
To hear their merry voices ring. 
Sweet as the lark in early spring. 
Will evil passions cause to fly 
And all your bosoms purify. 

Oh, never cause one loving heart 

A single moment's pain or smart ; 

And never promise to her make 

Which you do then intend to break. 

Oh, never in an evil hour 

Enter the trusting maiden's bower. 

As did the serpent Eden's gate. 

That holy place to desolate. 

" Poor are the trophies of seduction's art, 

Which but to triumph subjugates the heart," 



And from her happy home the maid shall bring 
And cast her forth a vile, degraded thing. 
From friends and home without a warning hurled 
Alone and friendless, on a heartless world, 
Though lately loved and honored was her name, 
Too oft, alas ! to lead a life of shame. 

What pains or torments ever can atone 
For promised bliss, alas! forever flown? 
What punishment can ever balm impart 
To purge the shame, or heal the bleeding heart? 
If there's a crime that is abhorred of Heaven, 
If there's a crime that ne'er will be forgiven. 
If there's a crime will cause the soul to dwell 
Eternal ages in the fires of Hell, 
'Tis his who, with the serpent's wily art. 
Seeks first to win a virtuous maiden's heart, 
W^hen won, to ruin — then, without delay. 
Debased, dishonored, friendless, casts away. 

Young ladies, now a word or two 

Of kind advice I'll give to you : 

First, as to health — don't spend your time 

Like hot-house plants in northern clime ; 

Don't spend the day in parlor fair, 

In crowded rooms and heated air ; 

With novels do not pass the day. 

Or cards and dice the night away. 

Don't sit all day, demure and prim, 

With waist tight-laced to make it slim ; 

Don't shun the sun lest his pure light 

Should tinge your cheeks now snowy white. 

Rise from your beds at dawn of day. 
And in the fields and woodlands stray ; 



48 



■"Twill give your cheeks a richer glow 

Than Paris shops on you bestow. 

In dresses you should not be found 

That sweep the street or trail the ground ; 

These in the parlor show with pride, 

But not upon the mountain side. 

And do not fear at set of sun 

Along the village streets to run, 

The hoop to drive, the quoit to throw, 

Or through the merry dance to go. 

If health and strength you deign to prize, 

They're found in air and exercise ; 

One trip upon the mountain height. 

Where air is pure and heart is light. 

More health and strength will cause to flow 

Than all the doctors can bestow. 

I hope to see each smiling fair 
Have Pluck to be — ^just what they are. 
Now unto me I pray draw near 
And let me whisper in your ear : 
You all are wishing, well I know, 
A partner for }our weal or woe ; 
The constant object of your life 
To make some man a worth}' wife. 

There are but few men in the land. 
Who seek a maiden's heart and hand. 
Who do not wish to have a wife 
Assist him in the voyage of life. 
One who, if adverse winds prevail. 
Could lend a hand to furl a sail ; 
Who, if his arm should palsied be. 
Could ofuide the bark along the sea. 



49 



Not leave the ship of winds the sport 

But safely guide her into port. 

Such are the wives that men most prize, 

They^re worth ten thousand butterflies 

Who only live to make a show, 

And spend a fortune as they go. 

Though fops may prize you for your dress, 
Or for the charms that you possess, 
The man of sense, who seeks a wife 
To dwell with him in calm and strife. 
Who calls upon a working day 
Had rather see you work than play : 
Had rather see you making bread, 
Or cleaning house, or quilting spread, 
Than on the sofa careless lying — 
O'er some tale of fiction crying — 
Arrayed in silks and laces fine, 
Adorned with gems from India's mine. 
With pearls from Afric's burning shore 
Encased in California's ore. 
Don't fear that men should you behold 
Arrayed in bonnet three months old. 
Or dresses which have been displayed 
Three times before on promenade. 
Though fops to you perchance won't speak. 
The men of sense your hands will seek ; 
They'll see your hearts are true and brave, 
And not proud fashion's humble slave. 

It costs so much a wife to dress 
That many won't a wife possess ; 
The young men see them passing by. 
They gaze on each gay butterfly. 



50 



Call on them in their parlors gay 

And with them pass the eve away. 

They leave them wrapped in sweet delight. 

But when they seek their rest at night 

They count the cost of birds so gay 

And find their income will not pay. 

They either lead a single life, 

Or else they do select as wife 

Some lovely, worthy, humble maid. 

In unpretending dre^^s arrayed. 

How marvel all the butterflies 

That such a maid should win the prize : 

They little think their splendid dress 

Lost them the men they would possess. 

This is the secret, it is tru^% 
I now confide it unto you : 
Would you a worthy man possess ? 
Convince him you're no slave to dress ; 
If you would ever be his bride 
Convince him neither pomp nor pride 
Will waste his earnings, sink his cash, 
And ruin him to make a dash. 
But that you arm in arm will go 
And share with him his weal or woe. 
And never fret for silks to wear 
When he has not the cash to spare. 

But if you'd happy be through life 
Show no great haste to be a wife ; 
The fisherman must patient wait, 
And skillful hide the hook with bait, 
To lure the troiit from out the brook — 
Though shiners bite the naked hook. 



51 



The ball-room is no place to find 
A husband, constant, loving, kind; 
For many who can sing and play, 
Who at a ball are blithe and gay, 
With dazzling wit and learned mind, 
Are blacklegs of the meanest kind ; 
W'ho through the day will drink and fight. 
And in low l:)rothels spend the night. 

Should any \-outh sue for your hand, 
Ask him if he can wealth command 
To furnish you a humble cot 
If you consent to share his lot? 
If he talks love on bended knees 
Ask him if he has bread and cheese 
To ietd two mouths, laid up in store, 
With prospect fair for feeding more? 
Though love, 'tis said, is warm and sweet. 
Still man must sometimes drink and eat ; 
The honexmoon we cannot bear 
With naught to eat and naught to wear: 
You'd better alwa}s old maids be 
Than wed to want and penury. 

If any for your hand aspire. 
About his past life you inquire ; 
And if you find within his breast 
That virtue doth forever rest. 
His actions noble, frank and true, 
With heart to dare and hand to do. 
Though he doth live in humble life 
\'ou need not fear to be his wife ; 
A noble heart and skillful hand 
Should be preferred to gold and land. 



52 



But should you on inquiry find 

That vice had triumphed o'er his mind, 

That when o'er earth night's curtains fell 

He silent sought the gambler's hell, 

Or, with a more licentious flame, 

He seeks the dens of vice and shame, 

You'd better wed the cold, dark grave 

Than be the wife of such a knave. 

If you should find his wily arts 
Has left behind him bleeding hearts ; 
That curses rest upon his head 
For peace destroyed, or virtue fled, 
Though he may be of wealth possessed. 
With noble friends and kindred blessed. 
Oh, shun him as a serpent vile, 
For in his heart there is more guile 
Than in the serpent who had power 
To banish Eve from Eden's bower. 

If he's intemperate, firmly say 
To all his questions, simply "nay;" 
You'd better, than the drunkard wed. 
Of thorns and thistles make your bed. 
If you should be a drunkard's wife 
You're sadly cursed throughout your life ; 
Your wealth will vanish, peace will fly. 
And want and grief their place supply. 

The man who doth a wooing come 
Should never smell of gin or rum ; 
If when your lover tries to sip 
The nectar from your ruby lip. 
When of his love he tries to tell. 
Then if his breath doth strongly smell 



53 



Of essences, this to him say, 

'* Have you been drinking aught to-day?" 

For oft a man to drink a slave 

Awhile his character may save. 

And, while he sits close by your side. 

With drugs the fumes of rum can hide . 

Now when those drugs by chance you smell 

Too oft intemperance there doth dwell ; 

Oh, never marry till you know 

The drugs conceal no deadly foe. 

The man who for your hand doth sue 

Should always have some work to do ; 

Some trade or business that will give 

A guarranty that he can live. 

And find his wife a home and bed. 

And furnish clothes and meat and bread. 

And not on parents to depend 

For bread to eat and cash to spend. 

Nor idly pass his time away 

While parents the expenses pay. 

Shun such, for when the parents die 

The cash they get will quickly fly : 

For if they can't a living get. 

The cash they'll spend and be in debt ; 

And when they find the fountain dry 

The stream that flows will quickly die. 

So he, who for support depends ♦ 

On parents, kindred, or on friends. 

Must, when the fountain stops its flow, 

Sink helpless down in want and woe. 

Ye farmers, happiest of mankind, 
Some good advice to you I find : 



54 

The human race by you are fed, 
To you we look for meat and bread : 
You furnish it, and when 'tis sold. 
From us you constant gather gold — 
The just reward for skill and toil 
In gathering products from the soil. 

For profit, don't a large farm buy. 

Though boundless space may please the eye 

Don't o'er ten acres heedless run 

To gather what should grow on one. 

Plow deep into the generous soil, 

'Twill well repay you for your toil ; 

Manure it well, the weeds destroy. 

And splendid crops you will enjoy. 

Keep up your fences strong and high, 

And on them constant keep your eye ; 

If this you'll follow through your life 

'Twill save a large amount of strife 

In neighborhoods so often born 

When cattle spoil your wheat and corn. 

See to your stock, and always keep 
The best of horses, cows and sheep ; 
The highland pastures, warm and sweet, 
Give largest stock and fattest meat. 
Though when the sun the hills shall dry 
The lowlands th^i will feed supply. 
But too much stock don't try to keep. 
Have feed enough for cows and sheep ; 
Ten cows well kept more milk will give 
Than thirty starved — though ihey may live. 

See that pure water can be found 
Within your fertile pasture ground : 



Place salt where they can eat each day, 
It will the trouble well repay. 
If they have water, pure and sweet. 
With grass enough for them to eat, 
Your cattle then will rapid grow. 
Your cows with milk will bounteous flow ; 
The farmer then with pleasure sees 
The gold from butter, beef and cheese. 
When winter winds shall furious blow 
Guard well your stock from cold and snow ; 
See that they all have what they'll eat 
Of that that's wholesome, pure and sweet ; 
And feed them well with hay and grain 
And through the season they will gain. 
In size and flesh, through winter's snow 
As when in pastures green they go. 

If you by chance should look around 
Too many farmers can be found 
Whose stock, when winter winds first blow, 
When first the fields are clothed in snow, 
Are fat and sleek — but e'er the spring 
Shall melt the snow and grass shall bring. 
With flesh all gone, can scarcely go. 
And some perchance will feast the crow. 

See that your barns are tigiit and warm. 
To shield your cattle from the storm : 
Keep your stock warm and carded neat, 
And give them water pure and sweet 
And you will save one-fourth they'd eat 
If left exposed to rain and snow. 
Or in cold barns are forced to go. 
Through whose wide cracks the piercing wind 
Their lean and shivering sides can find. 



56 



If large your barns, your house should be 
A cot beneath a spreading tree ; 
Built warm and plain, convenient, too. 
For those who have the work to do. 
Don't build your house so large and gay 
That you must sell the farm to pay. 
Don't sell your farm to get the cash 
To make in other trades a dash : 
Full many a farmer you can tell 
Who on his farm was doing well, 
Who, 'cause the profits were too slow. 
Must to some other business go — 
To baying stock and keeping store 
Who failed bifore the year was o'er. 

Can you nam- one ^vho's changed to trade 
Who ever yet a dollar made ? 
Can you name one, who ever yet 
Possessed a farm — was free from debt, 
That sold his farm in trade to be 
But soon was sunk in bankruptcy? 

Would you a thrifty farmer be ? 
To all your business you must see ; 
You can't expect to profit make 
Unless strict care you constant take. 
You can't expect your men to work 
If you the burden try to shirk ; 
If at the tavern you will stay 
Your men at home will surely play. 
Watch every leak however small, 
The little leaks may cause your fall ; 
The little streams, combining, make 
The river and the spacious lake. 



57 



The little leaks allowed to be 
Will sink the largest ships at sea ; 
The leak so small you scarce can spy 
Will drain the largest vessel dry. 

Though }ou must watch the leaks with care, 
Give to the poor a generous share ; 
With barns well filled and grain in store 
Let none go hungry from your door. 
From God's own hand your riches flow — 
With liberal hand your gifts bestow ; 
Whatever you give are you not told 
Shall be returned — yes, many fold? 
Besides the joy your acts will give 
The poor will love you while you live. 

Ye merchants, would you profits make? 
Some good advice from me pray take : 
And first, in all you do or say, 
Be strictly honest every day. 
And let it be your settled plan 
To justly deal with every man ; 
Use no deceit your goods to sell. 
And all defects be sure to tell. 
About your goods don't stand and lie 
E'en strangers to induce to buy ; 
When they find out you honest trade 
Your fortune then is surely made ; 
Your business then full fast will grow 
And wealth into your coffers flow. 

But should they find you cheat and lie. 
Then of your store they will be shy ; 
The money that by fraud is made 
Is balanced bv the loss of trade. 



58 

If you by fraud should gather spoil 
Soon on }our head it will recoil ; 
But few who constant cheat and lie 
Are worth a dollar when they die. 
It costs so much to be a knave 
The profits you can never save ; 
The lawyers' fees you have to pay 
Will sweep the i)rohts all away, 
And fast from you your cash will iiy — 
Despised and ])enniless you'll die. 

Ye doctors now stand forth. I pray. 
And 1 a wortl to nou will sa}' : 
To you we look when ills i)rcvail. 
When ])ains our trembling limbs assail ; 
When chills prostrate and fevers burn, 
W^ith anxious hearts to nou we turn. 
We trust to }ou that \'ou may save 
Our loved ones from an early grave ; 
All that we lo\'e we trust to you — 
Have \"ou prepared that work to do? 

Say. ha\e you deeply studied man 
On any scientific plan ? 
Have you spent days the nerves to trace ? 
Searched every bone and marked its place? 
Long, weary months did you endure 
To trace disease, its cause and cure? 
Did you around the sick bed stay 
To watch the vital spark decay? 
And did you scenes of pain endure 
That you the sick might learn to cure? 
Or did you spend each day and night 
In merry sport and laughter light. 



69 

And only doctor us to-day 

That you from us may draw the pay? 

If you would gather gold and fame, 
And leave behind an honored name, 
Watch o'er your patients every day 
As though you cared not for your pay : 
Call oft, inquiries constant make 
Of the etfect of what they take. 
Too many drugs you must not use, 
Let nature cure while you amuse ; 
Keep the mind cheerful, it will give 
Your patients better chance to live. 
Be a good nurse, more good 'twill do 
Than all the drugs now owned by you ; 
And when from sick-beds they arise 
Then tell them where the danger lies. 
More die from ventuiing forth too bold, 
From food impure, and taking cold 
Before the body strong hath grown. 
Or stomach gained its wonted tone — 
Which could by all be shunned with ease- 
Than die from cause of the disease. 

But if they find you light and gay. 
Who spend your time in sport and play. 
And constant gather with the crowd 
And politics talk long and loud, 
Your books you do but seldom read, 
Don't wonder if you don't succeed : 
Don't wonder if they pass you by 
And seek for those who constant try 
To gather knowledge, and the skill 
A name to win, a place to fill. 



60 



And with the honored in the land. 
For skill and science, take their stand. 

Young lawyers, never trust to luck, 
No business e'er required the Pluck 
Like his who ventures forth to draw 
A living from the science Law. 
If he an error chance to make, 
His foe advantage quick will take ; 
He's constant watched by skillful foes. 
He constant gives and takes keen blows. 
If doctors do a blunder make 
Who can advantage of them take? 
Few know wherein the error lies. 
The grave conceals it from our eyes. 
The preacher's task is easier, too. 
He takes his time his work to do ; 
He writes his sermons at his leisure. 
Corrects them at his will and pleasure. 
He reads them, whether bold or tame. 
With few to criticise or blame. 
But lawyers, whatsoe'er they do, 
Must .vork with skill and learning too, 
Or else they will be sure to get 
Entangled in a legal net. 

If you'd succeed don't trust to luck. 
But trust in study, toil and Pluck : 
Toil on, toil on, though slow your pace- 
Here turtles often win the race. 
Be in your office all the day. 
Without excuse ne'er be away ; 
Though few your clients, let them see 
You in your office constantly. ■ 



()1 



See to all business, faithful do 
Whate'er your clients trust to you ; 
And never use your clients' cash 
To pay your debts or make a dash, 
But safely place the sums away 
And promptly all your clients pay. 

And when your business is all done, 
Don't instant from your office run ; 
But spend your time in reading o'er 
Your books, well filled with legal lore, 
That you ma}- be prepared to meet 
Each skillful foe without defeat. 
If you are faithful, learned and true. 
You will have work enough to do ; 
But when the}' call if you're away 
Engaged in pleasure, sport or play, 
Or at the tavern talking loud — 
Disi)uting with a noisy crowd — 
And when \()u to }Our office coine 
If vou then smell of gin or rum, 
Don't wonder if they give }ou o'er 
And to your office come no more. 

Ye ministers, you ought to be 
From pride and sin forever free ; 
Your duty 'tis the path to show — 
And in that path most meekly go — 
Which leads from worldlv sin and shame, 
From thirst of gold, and passion's tiame, 
Up to those realms where, prophets tell, 
The saints with Christ shall ever dwell. 
You have a dut}- here to do. 
You have a straight path to pursue ; 
»> 



()2 

Christ did a bright example give 
P^or you to follow while you live. 
Each day he toiled, from place to place. 
To deeply plant the seeds of grace ; 
He healed the sick, He cured the blind, 
And gently calmed the troubled mind ; 
The leper cleansed, the dead did raise, 
And yet of man required no praise : 
Though he devoted every day 
He asked of man no salary. 
And when He sent His preachers forth 
To east and west, to south and north, 
He bade them all their journey make 
And neither food nor clothing take ; 
But trust themselves to God's kind care 
For bread to eat and clothes to wear. 

If you obey the laws of God 

And tread each day the path Christ trod. 

If you each day your zeal would show 

The Devil's works to overthrow. 

If you each day would try to find 

And sooth with balm the troubled mind. 

See that the injured have redress. 

Be father to the fatherless, 

Comfort the widow in her need. 

The poor and sickly daily feed. 

Go to the prison there to pray. 

And daily God's commands obey. 

Then when the Judgment Day shall come 

And Christ shall call you to his home. 

You'll find yourselves, by God's pure light, 

In garments all of spotless white : 

There with golden harps to sing 

The praises of your Lord and King. 



63 



But if you chance to look around 

How many such can now be found ? 

How many seek the poor and low 

To give them food or sooth their woe? 

Go to the prison's narrow bound, 

Ask when a priest last there was found? 

Go ask the widow in her grief 

What priest has given her relief ? 

How many work for God to-day 

Unless they have a salary ? 

And usually the call from Heaven 

Is where the largest pay is given. 

At church by priests we oft are told 

The sfreets in Heaven are paved with gold, 

And many wish a foretaste given 

To them on earth of joys in Heaven. 

Now, ere we part, to you Til say 

Pursue the straight and narrow way ; 

Call round your parish daily, see 

That none are lost through fault in thee. 

Watch o'er the weak, the feeble guide, 

Restrain the vile, and humble pride ; 

Live through the week so that your light 

Will guide your little flock aright : 

On Sundays plainly, firmly preach 

What Christ through all his life did teach. 

Assail all evil, do not fail. 

To wealth and fashion do not quail : 

Assail intemperance, blow on blow. 

You'll find it is a deadly foe : 

Don't suflfer it in any place — 

Though Deacon J has a red face. 

And every year upon his nose 

The purple color brighter grows. 



64 



If you the Deacon's heart would reach 
You must not of the ancients preach ; 
But have the Phick to tell him true, 
"Dear Deacon J, I now mean k^;// .'" 

Don't humbly bow to worldly pride, 

Though it is worshipped far and wide: 

Point out the ills that from it flow. 

That pride and Christ can never go 

Together in the human breast — 

Together they can never rest. 

That glittering gems and dresses gay 

Will drive all love for Christ away ; 

That vain for those thus tilled with pride 

A loving Saxior !)led and died. 

Have Pluck the many ills to show 

From pomp and pride that constant flow. 

Though angry eyes, just nnised from sleep. 

From under pretty bonnets peep. 

And costly gems may there be found 

And silks are rustling all around. 

While thus }OU live endowed with grace. 

Don't careless gaze on woman's face. 

For you will find that danger lies 

In lovely woman's sparkling eyes: 

For Satan wiser now has grown 

Since o'er poor Job his power was shown — 

He's found the product of the mine, 

And rosy cheeks and eyes that shine. 

Will sooner lead the saints astray. 

And make them curse the source of day. 

Than all the plagues that Job e'er knew 

With Egypt's plagues all added to. 



65 

I have a few more words to say, 
That is, whene'er you preach or pray 
Appear as though within your breast 
The love of Christ you tliL-n possessed. 
Christ loved mankind, His life He gave 
The sinner from his sins to save ; 
His words how simple, kind and pure, 
His h)\-e forever will endure. 

When you the charms of Heaven portray 

And to the sinner point the way. 

Don't stand as cold as statues are 

As if for them you had no care — 

As though your duty was to tell 

The different roads to Heaven or Hell, 

A chart of every route to make 

And then their choice let each one take. 

But when you preach and when you pray 
Appear to feel just what you say ; 
Entreat the sinner to arise 
And seek a home beyond the skies. 
Oh, take the drunkard by the hands 
And show the gulf o'er which he stands ; 
By love and zeal more souls you'll win, 
To seek for Christ and tlee from sin, 
In one short month than many a year 
Where love and zeal do not appear. 

But never think you are divine 

Because you can sup^^rbly whine ; 

Don't think the charms of Heaven you show 

By dismal groans and sighs of woe : 

Don't think that Heaven is in your power 

Because your face is long and sour. 



66 

And do not think you learning show 

By using words that none can know : 

But let the words that you command 

Be such that all can understand. 

And speak them all in accents clear 

That every one the words can hear. 

Read well your bible through the week, 

And new ideas constant seek ; 

The best of food will loathsome grow 

Unless you have a change to show ; 

Your little flock will pine away 

If constant fed on naught but hay. 

Oh, give a change for them to eat — 

E'en brakes and straw for change are sweet ; 

But if you have some grain to give 

They'll love and bless you while }"0u live. 

The wife who would her husband constant rule 

Should never tell him he's a knave or fool ; 

If he don't all her fondest wishes suit. 

She should not scornful call him " Turk" or " brute. 

If he don't silks and satins instant buy. 

She should not fret or scold or madly cry 

Like children — spoiled by parents kind and weak — 

Who constant cry denied the toys they seek. 

She should not fret and scold the livelong day 

Until the sun's last beam has passed away. 

And when o'er earth the night her watch doth keep. 

With curtain-lectures lull him to his sleep. 

There is no love within the human breast 

From year to year can stand so strong a test ; 

No fire will always burn unless 'tis fed, 

And love that's constant scorned will soon be dead. 



67 

If jars there are in matrimonial life 

Let nature guide you in its storm and strife ; 

If winds blow fierce and darkness veils the sky 

And thunder roars and bolts of lightning fly — 

Though fierce the storm, "twill quickly pass away. 

The sun will shine again in splendor gay. 

And when the winds are hushed, the storm passed o"er 

The earth, refreshed, smiles sweeter than before ; 

The "Bow of Promise," which to man was given. 

Again shines brightly in the vault of Heaven : 

So let it be, whatever the storm to-day. 

Like April showers when they have passed away. 

Let the sun shine without a mark or stain 

Left by the storm on valley, hill or plain. 

If he denies you dress or bonnet gay 

Perhaps he has not cash for them to pay ; 

And you, if worthy of the name of wife, 

Would ne"er engage in matrimonial strife, 

Make him the debtor's galling collar bear, 

That silks and jewels you may proudly wear, 

And while you sport gay feathers through the street. 

Cause him to toil the great expense to meet. 

But if he's able and your wants won't hear. 

This secret let me whisper in your ear — 

Which like the magic word in eastern tale 

To ope all places ne'er was known to fail, 

'Twill calm all strife and quiet every jar. 

Remove all locks and every bolt unbar. 

And from the miser draw his gold away. 

And change the night of discord to clear day — 

Be kind and gentle in your humble home, 

Your husband meet with smiles when he doth come 



68 

From -Store or shop, where he the weary day 
In constant toil the hours doth pass away. 
And mikt home happy, never fret or scold, 
One smile and kiss will draw from him more gold 
Than constant fretting while the day is bright 
And curtain-lectures given through the night. 

Ye husbands, I to you will tell 
How you in peace fore'er may dwell ; 
How you can win the glorious boon 
To make your life one honeymoon. 

When first you sought to win a wife 
To share with you the voyage of life, 
You tried by every art to prove 
That you did her sincerely love. 
Each wish of hers was law to you. 
And all she asked you loved to do ; 
Ah, then you led a happy life. 
But when the maid became your wife 
You should not call the courting done 
Because the maiden you had won. 

Soon as the silken knot is tied 

You should not change towards your bride ; 

You at your home each eve should stay, 

And from the tavern keep away. 

And make home happy every day. 

If treated with neglect and scorn 

You'll find that trouble soon is born ; 

You should not, il the children cry. 

Unto the store or grocery rty, 

And leave her all alone to bear 

The burden that you ought to share. 



69 



On \vashing-da\s you should not fret 
If nicest dinners you don't get : 
You cannot hope to happy be 
If you (h'ink rum when she's no tea; 
Or smoke till you are nearly dead 
When she has neither meat nor bread. 
Nor wonder when she catches you 
(iiving to Jenny, lieck, or Sue, 
The fond embrace that is her due, 
If clouds grow dark and lightnings fly 
And thunders rend the angr\ sky. 
And winds arise that hearts appall 
And rain in drenching torrents fall. 

-If \()U would wife and children bless 
Make home \"our place of happiness. 
Forsake the tavern's noise and din. 
Flee from each ])lace of \ ice and sin : 
The gamblers' den xou must forsake, 
The chains of every siren break. 
Cast from your lips the flowing bowl 
That wastes your wealth and damns your soul. 
And frugal, xiituous, temperate be. 
To all \'our business constant see: 
Consult your wife in all xou do 
As one who is a friend to nou. 
Watch o'er your children day by day, 
From virtue's path they must not stray; 
Ex])end for books an ec|ual sum 
That neighbors do for gin and rum. 
And )()u will then around you see 
A losing, \ irtuous famil\': 
Your wealth will then each day increase. 
And you will alwa)s dwell in peace. 



70 

Ye matrons, who the household sway, 
To you a word I now will say : 
Whatever your station always mind 
To all beneath your care be kind. 
Your children watch from day to day. 
All your commands they should obey ; 
Don't fret and scold and make them cry, 
Then sugar give their eyes to dry. 
When they ask favors don't say nay 
And if they cry give them their way ; 
With steady hand their young steps lead. 
Their minds with proper nurture feed. 
But gently, firmly, o'er them rule. 
And when of age send them to school ; 
And o'er them careful watch each day 
That they don't leave their school to play. 

See that your daughters daily learn 
Some art by which they each may earn 
A living if, by chance or luck. 
They should be called to prove their Pluck. 

Teach them preserves and pies to make, 
To knead the dough, the bread to bake. 
The meat to roast, to boil, or stew. 
Till each knows how the work to do — 
That when she doth become a bride 
She o'er her household can preside. 

Your care unto your household give. 
Within your income strive to live, 
And don't go supperless to bed 
To save the cash to make a spread. 
For weeks and weeks don't poorly live 
That a grand supper you may give; 



71 

Don't dress in silks and jewels gay 
For which your husband cannot pay. 
But show that you've got Pluck, and dare 
A bonnet three months old to wear — 
Yourself at church \ ou dare to show 
In dress you'had three months ago. 
Be kind and prudent through your life 
And you will be a worthy wife ; 
Loved while you live, and when you're dead, 
Alcove your grave will tears be shed. 
And straight to Heaven I trust you'll go — 
You've been helpmate here below. 



Now, fare you well, my task is done. 
No longer my '* machine" will run : 
Perhaps you'll say youVe glad 'tis o'er 
And wish that it had stopped before. 
If in this world of joy and pain 
By chance we e'er shall meet again, 
I trust you'll whisper in my ear — 
"I'm none the worse for being here.'* 
And if you practice what I teach 
You'll bless me in your latest speech : 
And now I make my bow to you — 
Ye Gents and Ladies all adieu ! 



Miscellaneous Poems. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



I^URNING (3F THE STATE HOUSE AT 
MONTFELIER. 

[Oil the evening ol" the r,th .lay of Jainiai y, 1857, the Stale House 
at Montpolier was (lei«trove<l by tire, leaving only the walle of brick 
an«l stone r^tauding. The night was intensely cold, tlie thermometer 
about l.'t'-' t)elow zero, an<l the wind blowinga gale. The coals and 
cinders were l)lowii for half a mile over the village, setting tires in 
many places, which l)y the vigilance of the citizens were extinguished 
Avithout damage.] 



(/er Montpelier, l)jauteou.s town, 
The shades ot n'nj^ht were closing down ; 
The lovely moon, fair (|ueen of Ni^^ht, 
Was driving on her chariot bright, 
And star on star their infiiience lent 
Till glowed with fite the firmament. 

The wind was powerful, high and strong, 
And swept in fearful gusts along; 
The piercing cold had cleared the street 
Of merry voice and busy feet. 
And gathered round the cheerful hearth 
The smiling face, the social mirth. 
Showed that the night was gaily past 
While outside howled the rairimr blast 



76 



What means this wild and startling cry 
Which, echoing back, the hills reply — 
First feeble, low and faint and mild, 
Then loud and terrible and wild ? 
'Tis " Fire ! Fire!" that awful sound! 
"Fire! Fire! Fire!" the hills resound — 
Now rising near, now heard afar. 
The stillness of the night to mar — 
Joined with the wind's wild roaring, hear 
The cry of fire burst on the ear ! 

Forth from the hearth, the shop, the store, 
At that dread sound the myriads pour ; 
And, gathering as they press along, 
Each street and alley swells the throng. 
The rattling engines rushing by, 
The roaring wind, the larum cry. 
The ringing bells, the wild affright, 
Still add new terrors to the night. 

See yonder grand and stately pile 
With lofty dome and beauteous aisle, 
Our village glory and our pride, 
Whose granite walls old Time defied : 
Her halls of state, her works of art, 
Both please the eye and charm the heart. 

The moon's pale light on these dark walls 

Coldly now is beaming. 
But through her proud and lofty halls 

A wilder light is streaming. 

Now dancing gaily to and fro. 

Now upward speeds its flight ; 
See on its dome, now capt with snow, 



77 

The flame doth spread its fearful glow 
Of purple light. 

The wind roars loud, the flames flash high. 
Leaping and dancing to the sky. 

While in the rooms below, 
P>om hall to hall resistless rushing. 
From doors and windows furious gushing — 

Oh. how sublime the show I 

Dark clouds of smoke spread far and wide. 
And balls of fire on every side 

F'all like the autumn hail ; 
Before the fury of the blast, 
And rushing flames that spread so fast, 

The heart of man may quail. 

Ah, man I how feeble is thy power 
In that dread and fearful hour 

When flames are flashing free 
From lofty spire and windows high, 
And clouds of smoke obscure the sky, 
As onward, on, the flames rush by 

In wildest revelry. 

Roar on. fierce fliniel beneath thy power 
The works of years, in one short hour, 

Are swept from earth away ; 
And naught is left of all their pride 
But ashes, scattered far and wide, 
And crumbling walls, with smoke dark-dyed, 

Spread out in disarray. 

That lofty pile one hour ago 

The village pride, the nation's show, 



78 

Capt with its l)right and virgin snow, 

In beaut) shone ; 
The next, a mass of ruined walls, 
Of columns broken, burning" halls — 

Its beaut V tlown. 



THE ROOSTER CHASE. 



[The following lines are founded on fact. The incidents actually 
took place ap nai-rated. The minifater was the Rev. S-ni-1 M.] 



Come all good people, far and near, and listen to my ditty. 
And I will sing w^hat late took place in far-famed Plaintield 

city : 
'Ti.s of the Reveiend S-m-1 AT , who dwells in that great 

place 
And of the feats he did perform in the great rooster chase. 
But first 1 must go back a ste[) and start at the beginning. 
For if in early life we sin through life we go on sinning ; 
And if a poet should begin in the middle of his story, 
He ne'er would win a wreath of bays, or wear a crown of 

glory. 

This Rexerend Sir in earl\- youth, and since he is a man, 
Doth hold in deejjest. deadliest scorn the " Ihiix'ersal 

Plan :"• 
This hate, .so letter and so deep, from youth to age hath 

been 
Instilled in all around him. each child, each pig and hen. 

He thought his hens all orthodox until the other day 

He found a cock of different faith among his hens at play; 



79 

He beat his breast, he tore his hair, and in his wrath did 

cry 
*' Thou wicked Universal cock, for this crime thou shalt 

die ! 
Yes, you shall die. you wicked one, for being so imcivil, 
You've tried to lead my hoh' hens down to your sire — 

the d— 1 r 
Then in his wrath a stone he seized and hurled it at the toe, 
The rooster dodged the ponderous rock, and then most 

loud did crow : 
The parson then a club did seize and at the cock did run, 
And such a race was never seen since time itself begun ; 
John Crilpin's race may be forgot, and Nestor's lost in 

night, 
Sir Joseph Banks', by Pindar told, wan't half so grand a 

sight. 

The rooster Hew. the parson run, o'er meadow, hill and 

dale. 
For two long hours the chase he kept, until his strength 

did fail : 
The rooster first did forward press, then turn and dodge 

and tly. 
The parson close behind did press, exclaiming, " Thou 

shalt die I" 
With panting breast and fluttering wing the cock flew swift 

as wind. 
With bod\" bent and swinging arms the priest pressed close 

behind : 
O'er fences high, through marshes dee[). the\ onward, 

onward went. 
Next three times round a house or more their devious path 

the}' bent. 
The chase did hot and hotter grow as near a church they 

drew. 



80 

Then round and round the sacred spot the rooster quickly 

flew ; 
But ^tis not now as 'twas of yore — no altar could he find 
To save him from the wrath of him who pressed so close 

behind. 
Not Michael, when from Heaven he droxe the De\il and all 

his race, 
Showed half the skill our parson showed in this great 

rooster chase. 
But as it was in days of yore, and is rehearsed in song, 
" The race is not always to the swift, or battle to the 

strong ;'' 
For after all the shifts and turns on this eventful day. 
In spite of all the parson's skill the rooster got away! 
And as 'twas sung in days of old, so now 'tis sung by me — 
When next the parson runs a race "may 1 l)e there to see." 



ODE P^OR JULY 4. 187 1. 

We've gathered here to celel^rate 
The glorious day from which we date 

The nation's humble birth ;- 
That from a weak colonial state 
W^e've grown a nation rich and great. 

The freest on the earth. 

That day the southern cavaliers 
And northern puritans were peers : 

Together, side by side. 
Beneath the starry flag they stood, 
The rights of freemen to make good 

And humble England's pride. 



81 



They saw Columbia's Eagle rise, 
And through the bright, ethereal skies 

Ascend to meet the sun ; 
They saw the British Lion cower 
Before the Eagle's mighty power — 

In terror homeward run. 

Proud traitor hands have tried in vain 
Fair Freedom's land to rend in twain, 

And all our hopes destroy ; 
But gaily now our banner flies 
Through all Columbia's azure skies, 

The patriot's hope and joy. 

Oh, Thou who o'er the nations reign, 
Permit not traitor bands again 

The nation to dissever : 
Dear Father, guard us with Thy might, 
And keep us in the path of right. 

And we will praise Thee ever. 



THE BRIDE'S FAREWELL. 

[Written at the request of a ladv who was expecting soon to 
marry anrl remove to California.] 

Father, press me to thy heart 

Once again before I go ; 
E'er from childhood's home I part. 

Part fore'er, for weal or woe. 



Mother, on thy loving breast 
Let thy daughter now recline ; 

Let her there a moment rest. 
Let her arms thy form entwine. 



82 

Sister, let me press thy hand. 
Let me kiss thee o'er and o'er ; 

I must seek another land, 

J may hear th\' xoice no more. 

Jirother, let me kiss thv cheek, 

1 must tear ni) self a\va\- ; 
Let these tears my warm love speak — 

iJrother. for thy sister jjray. 

From my childhood's home I go, 
Trusting in another's breast ; 

Sharer of his weal or woe, 

May your dear one's choice be blest. 

Pray that He my steps may guide 
Through the pleasant paths of life ; 

That we shun the halls of pride, 
Scenes of vice, and hours of strife. 

Full of hope, thy dear one now 

Leaves her cherished childhood home. 

Trusting in another's vow. 
Far in distant lands to roam. 

Father, mother, fare thee well! 

Brother, sister, loved aud true, 
I can here no longer dwell — 

Dear ones, loved ones, now adieu I 



83 



THE "(;recian bend." 

[Written on seeing a lady tliat had the "IJend"— and liad it bad.] 

Oil. saw ye not Miss Betsey Jane 

Before she sought the city ? 
The fairest maid on all the plain. 
She proudly o'er each heart did reign 

She was so fair and wittv. 

She walked the street with perfect grace. 

With head erect and high : 
A smile was ever on her face. 
And in her heart love foimd a place 

Where he could warml\- 'ie. 

No arrow was more straight than she 

While with us she did stay : 
Her form was Natiu"e"s symmetry. 
Her aubm^n locks, in ringlets free. 

Did o'er her bosom stray. 

l^ut she, alas I in evil hour. 

Went to the crowded city : 
Where Fashion rules, with tyrant power. 
Both palace ga\' and humble bower 

Without remorse or pity. 

Now view again Miss Betsey Jane 

Returned to us once more ; 
She's left the city for the plain 
To triumph o'er our hearts again 

As in the da\s of vore. 



84 



Alas I how changed in every way 

Is lovely Betsey Jane ; 
Her auburn locks, that free did play 
O'er neck and bosom, cease to stray — 

They'll ne'er be seen again. 

In place of curls a high chignon 

Deforms her lovely head ; 
Her graceful form, alas ! is gone, 
She looks a being quite forlorn. 

From whom each charm has fled. 

Her back is bent, is age the cause? 
What has her waist comprest? 
The body bends at Fashion's laws, 
'Tis Fashion's hand the stays' string draws- 
She bows at its behest. 

Upon her back a hump appears 

That would a camel grace ; 
She looks as if full twenty years 
Had passed, with all their hopes and fears, 

Since last she left this place. 

How long, how long will maidens fair 
Great Nature's works deface? 

The human form, with grace so rare,. 

By Nature formed with skill and care. 
With bends and humps disgrace? 



85 



DARTMOUTH CENTENNIAL. 



[The invitation of the alma mater of Dartmouth College to her 
sons to return to Hanover in July, 1869, it being her one hundredth 
birth day.] 

Come home to your Mother, my children so dear, 

I summon you all in July to appear ; 

Come home, my dear sons, "tis my hundredth birth day, 

Let no one remain from my mansion away. 

In my old classic halls my tables you'll find 

Well stored with rich food for both body and mind ; 

Come I gather around the old homestead once more, 

Where deeply ye drank of her classical lore. 

Though a hundred long years your Mother hath seen, 

She's as gay and as fair as a maid of si.xteen ; 

On her face not a wrinkle or sign of decay, 

Her step is as light and her voice is as gay 

As when in her i^outh, at her altar, all swore 

None fairer or nobler the earth ever bore. 

Come home to your Mother, from mountain and plain. 
Let Oregon greet here his brothers from Maine ; 
Come home, all my children that dwell o'er the sea, 
Come, all that now live, on my birth day to me ; 
And make with your presence the old homestead gay. 
And honor your Mother's one -hundredth birth day. 

We'll rejoice with the living, but still we must weep 
For brothers who now in their graves are asleep ; 
For thirty-one years from the time of my birth 
All my sons are asleep 'neath the clods of the earth ; 

8 



S() 



And many each year, of the noble and brave, 
Are passing from toil to tind rest in the grave : 
Then come to your Mother, my sons widely spread. 
To rejoice with the living and weep for the dead. 
June, 1869. 



LINES 

WRITTEN FOR Till': OPENING OF THE PEACE JU15ILEE HELD 
IN liOSTON IN 1869. 

Gathered here from e\er) land. 
See, oh God, this union l)and 
Who 1)efore Thee humbly stand 

And fervent pray 
That bloody War henceforth shall cease. 
Thy power on earth each day increase. 
And all the nations dwell in Peace 

Beneath Th\- sway. 

For battle fields all drenched in gore. 
Where brave men free their life-blood pour. 
Oh, let the holy anthem soar 

Of heavenly birth : 
For trumpets" clang and clash of arms. 
For cannons' roar and War's alarms. 
Let white-robed Peace, with all her charms, 

Rule all the earth. 

Father, to Thee we humbly pra)' 
To drive all thoughts of strife away. 
Oh, let Thy love the nations sway 
And all wars cease ; 



87 

Oh, let us here united be, 
Our voices join in jubilee, 
Let all the people worship Thee, 
And dwell in Peace. 



CHRISTMAS HYMN. 

" Let little children come to me,''' 
Was the command b\- Jesus given ; 
Like little children they must be 
Who enter in the gate of Heaven. 

The little children here have met 
This eve to humbly sing and pray, 
And bow before the Throne of ( rrace 
The eve before Christ's Xatal Day. 

Here let our tender hearts o'erflow 
With love to Him who cheerful gave. 
Upon the cross. His precious life 
F'rom sin and death our souls to sa\e. 

Jesus, on Thee we now rely 
To save our youthful hearts from sin : 
Oh, watch us with a parent's eye. 
That we a heaven! \ crown ma\- win. 



88 



OUR COUNTRY AND ITS BANNER. 



All hail to the land where the bold eagles fly, 
Where the Stars and the Stripes our fathers unfurled ; 

Where the bright sun of Freedom illumines the sky, 
The terror of tyrants, the hope of the world. 

Though dark clouds of treason rise high on the air, 
And its fierce lightnings flash and its wild thunders roar, 

The Banner of Freedom in triumph we'll bear 
From valley to hill top, from mountain to shore. 

O'er the hills of New England, the land of the pine, 
O'er the plains of the south, with her bright, sunny sky, 

O'er the far western shore, where glows the rich mine, 
This glorious old Banner forever shall fly. 

Proud Banner, we love you, we hail you with joy. 
We swear to protect you while warm beats each heart ; 

No traitor shall ever thy glory destroy. 
Or cause from thy field one star to depart. 

Thy loved folds above us, our eyes fixed on Heaven, 
On bended knee here we now solemnly swear 

This Union shall never in fragments be riven 
But free and united, this Banner shall bear. 
1863. 



89 



JUBILEE: JULY 4, 1865. 

Let the merry bells ring their livliest note, 

Let the star-spangled banner abo\e us proud float, 

Wake the life and the drum, let the bugle loud sound, 

Let the roar of the cannon shake the land all around : 

Let the voice of the brave and the beautiful meet 

And join in a chorus, both thrilling and sweet. 

To honor the day that forever shall be 

Hailed, welcomed and cherished, the great Jubilee. 

Eighty-nine years have passed over the earth 
Since our fathers proclaimed of a nation the birth. 
That a nation was born that forever should be 
" The land of the brave and the h(>me of the free."' 
Humble, poor and despised, they rushed to the field. 
Strong hands and brave hearts the country did shield. 
Till the stars and the stripes victorious did fly, 
And the Lion of England in dust low did lie. 

Sweet peace blessed the land, and our flag we unfurled, 
" Its bright stars and broad stripes" gave joy to the world ; 
The poor and oppressed of all Europe could see 
That happiness dwelt in the land of the free. 
Here the poor and oppressed by the thousand have come, 
■•Neath the banner of freedom to find them a home. 
The forests to clear and the prairies reclaim. 
And unto the nation add glory and fame. 

But the traitors to freedom the nation defied, 
And the fields of the south they in blood deeply dyed ; 
Where peace lately reigned the cannons' loud roar 
Shook the land from the centre to mountain and shore. 



90 

But the banner of freedom in triiimj)h cloth wave. 
It hath broken the chains from the limbs of each slave, 
And the nation to-day is from slavery set free, 
And the people all join in the great Jubilee. 

Let the merry bells ring their liveliest note, 

Let the star-spangled banner above us proud float, 

Wake the fife and the drum, let the bugle loud sound, 

Let the roar of the cannon shake the earth all around : 

Let the voice of the brave and the beautiful meet 

And join in a chorus, both thrilling and sweet. 

To honor the day that forever shall be 

Hailed, cherished and welcomed the great Jubilee. 



THE DEVIL'S DRIVE. 

The Devil was heard one morn to say 
" Harness my fleetest steeds to-day, 

I'm bound to have a spree : 
I'll leave this Iovel\ i)]ace called Hell, 
And haste to where vain mortals dwell 

The acts of man to see."' 

To New Orleans he took his way, 
The place he reached at close of day 

Just as the moon arose : 
" This," he cried, " is the land for me, 
My subjects gather here, I see. 

How fast my kingdom grows !'' 

He walked the street at midnight hour- 
" Here I reign in all my power!"' 
He cried, in wildest glee : 



91 



He hears the noise of dice and props. 
Before a marble hall he stops, 
Such sights he loves to see 

The wine was flowing free around, 
And music lent its sweetest sound, 

And beauty's eyes were bright ; 
For women there, with forms divine, 
Were quaffing oif the rosy wine. 

And playing deep that night. 

He saw the assassin stealthy creep 
The blow to strike while yet in sleep 

His victim quiet lay : 
But wild he laughed when he stepped in 
Those gorgeous halls of vice and sin 

Where riot rules the day. 

^' This place is mine : at rising sun 
ril hasten on to Washington 

To see assembled there 
My subjects, gathered from each state, 
Who there for me impatient wait — 

They well deserve m\- care. 

*' Here, here 1 see," in glee he cried, 
*' My faithful subjects by my side. 

This, this is Washington ! 
Here are the wise and virtuous met — 
Was ever such a godless set ? — 

My work is well begun I'" 

The sights he saw, a few I'll name 
That caused the De'il to blush for shame 
They were performed so bold : 



92 

He saw fair woman's youthful lij) 
The flowing wine cup fondly sip, 
Her virtue pawn for gokl. 

He saw ambition's greedy hand 
Ready to grasp the fairest land 

Held by the crown of Spain ;' 
Read}' to spread, with pomp and show. 
The stars and stripes o'er Mexico. 

Above her hills of slain. 

He saw the statesman young and gay, 
The learned judge with locks of gray. 

And politician sage, 
For gold their dearest friends betray, 
Their votes and judgments sell for pay. 

For gold in fraud engage. 

He saw a priest, a learned divine. 
Drink deeply of the ruby wine, 

With harlots on his knee : 
The Devil saw it all with pride, 
"I'll haste away," he quickly cried, 

"This land is mine, I see. 

" I'll instant hasten back to Hell, 
There is no need of charm or spell 

This wicked world to gain : 
This is to me a happy hour. 
They all are subject to my power. 

None strive to break the chain." 

1 These lines were written at the time tlie United States were try. 
ing to buy Cuba and before the Mexican war 



93 



LINES ADDRESSED TO MY ALBUM. 

Go, Album, go an5 seek the fairest flowers 
That bloom on mountain height, in lowly glen, 

Seek in the woodland, and amid the bowers. 
In the deep solitude, 'mid haunts of men. 

Go, gather flowers and twine a wreath for me, 
A fairy wreath that ne'er oh, ne'er shall fade. 

That still unsullied, pure and bright shall be 
When this frail heart beneath the turf is laid. 

Bring me the Lily with its virgin bloom. 
The modest Violet that doth shun the day ; 

Bring me young Roses, with their rich perfume 
Which lasts when all their bloom has passed away. 

But should you meet a noisome, poisonous flower, 
Whose varied hues delight, enchant the eye, 

Keep ye, oh, keep ye from its fatal power. 
And touch not, taste not. lest ye surel\- die. 

But shun no flower however low its birth. 
And twine, oh, twine it in the wreath ye braid ; 

Though it be humble, joined with real worth, 
^Twill live the same when those more bright shall fade. 
1834. 



94 



LINES 

WRITTEN ON READING THE DECISION OF CHIEF JUSTICE 
TANEY IN THE DRED SCOTT CASE — 1 857. 

Freedom has from our nation fled, 

Her banner waves no more ; 
In vain our fathers fought and bled. 
In vain each battle field made red 

With d\in,u; patriots" gore. 

Tear down your banner from on high. 

No longer let it wave 
O'er battle fields, no more to fly- 
Where patriots rush to do or die — 

Freedom has foimd her grave. 

Around }Our cherished stripes and stars 

The serpent's coils are seen ; 
Forgotten are \-our patriot wars. 
P'orgotten are Nour heroes' scars. 

Their gra\es no longer green. 

The emblem that should grace our land 

And float o'er hill and plain, 
Should be a planter, whip in hand. 
A negro, stripped by his command. 

Bound with a galling chain. 

Strike ofl' the eagle, let her soar 

Free o'er each dale and hill : 
A ravished maid from Afric's shore. 
Whose back the lash hath drenched in gore. 

The eagle's place may fill. 



9^ 



Those long-loved stripes of white and red, 

Alas I must yield their place 
To negroes, from their masters fled. 
Pursued by hounds with noiseless tread 
And southern lords in chase. 

Unfurl the banner, let it fl}- 

Where freedom had her birth : 
'Twill tell to every passer by 
That slavery rules in places high 

And fieedom's crushed to earth. 

Though crushed to earth, that flag again, 

Again in all her pride 
Shall float o"er every hill and plain. 
0"er every ship that plows the main, 

0"er slavery's fields shall ride. 

Their chains each slave shall cast away, 

And take the place of men ; 
And all shall hail the glorious day 
When freedom shall regain her sway. 
Her banner wave again. ^ 



L I N K S 
coMi'osKi) IN Tin: t i:.mp:tekv .\t st. john'siu'ky. 

This is the end of man, 
'Ilie end of power and pride. 

His history's written thus — 
Was born, and lived, and died. 



IThis prophecy has been fulflled much sooner than tlie aulhor 
anticiputed when lie wrote the foregoing lines. 



96 

Here lie the rich and poor, 
The humble and the great ; 

Though different in their lives, 
Death equals their estate. 

The pauper in his rags, 
The rich man in his pride, 

Within this sacred spot 
Are resting side by side. 

Here lies the aged man, 
And there the blooming maid ; 

Here rests the mother dear. 
And there her infant's laid. 

All, all are gathered here 
Within this holy ground ; 

The simple and the wise. 
All classes here are found. 

All, all for death prepare. 
Clothe not the grave in gloom ; 

The road to bliss on high 
Lays through the silent tomb. 



LINES WRITTEN IN A LADY\S ALBUM. 

Maila, this book is a type of the mind 

In youth, so unspotted and white, 
For here a fair page by thee is designed 

For each of thy friends who will write. 

But e'er it is filled, oh, how 'twill appear, 
Its beauty will vanish, how sad is its fate ! 



97 

A stain will be there and a blot will be here, 
On the same page lines crooked and straight. 

Yes, ev'ry rude hand will imprint in this book 

A mark that for aye will remain, 
This page, to the eye, oh, how fair it will look. 

On the next, how unsightly the stain. 

Thus the mind, in our youth so unspotted and fair, 
From ev'ry associate an impress will take ; 

Then watch thy companions, yes, watch them with care. 
Lest a blot or a stain on thy fame they shall m.ake. 
1836. 



WHAT SHALL I DO? 

What shall I do? what shall I do? 

'Tis truth I can't decide, 
So many smiling maids I view. 

Which I shall make my bride. 

I can't decide, I can't decide — 
There's Ann, so gay and witty, 

And lovely Sue, the village pride. 
And Mary, young and pretty. 

There's blooming Helen, Fan, and Prue, 
With fairy forms and features. 

And Lydia, Betsey, Esther too. 
All lovely, charming creatures. 

I can't decide, I can't decide, 
'Mid eyes of every hue, 
9 



98 



From Melvell's of the glistening black 
To Kate's of melting blue. 

"You must decide," a friend replied, 
"Or else 'twill be too late ; 

For Helen soon will be engaged 
And Prue has found a mate : 

" And it is said, if you delay, 

That Susan you will lose; 
And Betsey, some in whispers say, 

Is caught in Hymen's noose/" 

If it is so, why let them go. 

My doubts will soon be gone ; 
For long I cannot hesitate 
When all are wed save one. 
1835. 



ODE: 

WRITTEN FOR THE FIFTY-SEVENTH ANNIVERSARY OF THE 
INDEPENDENCE OF AMERICA. 

Wake the bugle! wake the lyre! 
Let the day each heart inspire 
With a holy, sacred fire — 

The fire of Liberty ! 
'Tis the birth day of the land, 
'Tis the day the patriot band 
Published forth the great command — 

America is Free! 



99 

They to England firmly spoke 
That the tyrant's galling yoke 
They had now forever broke, 

And should live Free : 
Then our gallant yeomen brave 
Rushed their dearest rights to save, 
Rushed to \'ictory or the grave — 

To Death or Liberty. 

To death or liberty they sprung, 

Their star-decked banner free they flung. 

Their thundering cannon loudly rung 

Their foemen's knell : 
Fair Victory smiled upon our arms. 
To trumpets' clang and war's alarms 
Sweet Peace succeeds with all her charms- 

And Free we dwell. 

Let the anthem sweetly rise 
To the Monarch in the skies 
Who secured to us the prize — 

The prize of Liberty : 
Who our fathers' hearts inspired, 
Who their souls wiih valor fired. 
Till proud Albion's hosts retired 

And left us F'ree. 

Unto Him let praises flow 
Who repelled the country's foe, 
Brought the haughty Britons low 

And bade them flee 
From the Land ot Liberty — 
From the Land of Liberty 
Where no mortal bends the knee 

But to (}od and Liberty. 
July 4, 1833. 



100 



LINES 

ON THE DEATH OF MRS. SARAH ELIZABETH BANCROFT, OF 
MONTPELIER, WHO DIED MARCH 1 6, 1 859. 

The bell hath tolled again ! 
Another soul, from pain 

By death set free, 
O God! up to Thy throne 
On angels' wings hath flown 

To worship Thee. 

Whilj she did heie reside 
Her heart was often tried 

By grief and woe ; 
For friends in youthful bloom 
Borne to the silent tomb 

Her tears did flow. 

Twice had she been a bride, 
Twice had she stood beside 

A husband's grave ; 
She raised her tearful eye 
To Him who rules on high 

With power to save. 

Upon her Savior's breast 
Calmly she sunk to rest. 

Doubting never 
That she, at Jesus' feet, 
Her cherished friends should meet 

To dwell ever. 

Upon her silent tomb 
The sweetest flowers shall bloom 
Of early spring ; 



101 



The willow's branch shall wave, 
birds around her g 
rheir matins sing^. 



And birds around her grave 



HYMN, 

WRITTEN FOR THE DEDICATION OF THE CHURCH OF jTHE 
MESSIAH [unitarian] , AT MONTPELIER. 

Dear Father, we have gathered here 

To dedicate to Thee 
This temple where we can draw near 
And, without doubt, despair or fear, 

In Thy loved presence be. 

Here shall the man with hoary head 

Of all Thy glory speak ; 
Here shall the youth with buoyant tread. 
The infant by the mother led. 

Thy love and mercy seek. 

Here will we join in prayer and praise, 

And here, on bended knee. 
Our humble thoughts to Thee we'll raise, 
And sing Thy soul-inspiring lays, 

And give our hearts to Thee. 

Accept this House we dedicate. 

And fill it with Thy grace ; 
O free our hearts from pride and hate 
While in Thy presence here we wait 

And worship in this place. 



102 

Dear Father, may Thy will be done, 

Our sins be all forgiven ; 
And while our sands of life shall run 
Let Christ, Thy dear and only Son, 
Guide our frail steps to Heaven. 



THE WIDOW BROWN'S TURKEYS 

A TEMPERANCE TALE. 

My gentle reader, you should know 

That in Vermont, long years ago. 

There lived a widow lady who. 

Of this world's goods, was well to do : 

She was well known throughout the town, 

Her name was Sarah Helen Brown ; 

She had a farm and quite a stock, 

And hens and geese a splendid flock ; 

But over everything beside 

Her turkeys were her greatest pride. 

In truth it was a goodly sight 

To see the proud old gobblers fight. 

Or view them when the flock they led. 

And see them strut and swell and spread 

As round them ran their youthful brood 

When forth they went in search of food. 

Good Mistress Brown, 'tis truth I say. 

Had watched her turkeys day by day, 

And fed them well with corn and dough 

And felt a pride to see them grow ; 

In visions saw the shining gold 

That would be hers when they were sold — 



103 

For this was long before the day 
The greenback drove the gold away. 

She had a neighbor who lived by 'er, 
His name was Jones, baptized Josiah ; 
He was beloved throughout the town, 
A deacon he of great renown . 
He of the church was called the head, 
For years he'd passed the wine and bread ; 
His face the joys of Heaven did show, 
Which every year did brighter grow. 

The deacon had a cherry tree, 
Where every fall the fruit you'd see- 
Such luscious fruit!— on every limb, 
For this he gave his thanks to Him 
Who made the world and rules the earth 
And watches o'er us from our birth 
Until we pass at last away 
From Time unto Eternity. 

The autumn came and on the tree 

More splendid fruit none e'er did see : 

The fruit is gathered in a heap, 

But long, alas! it will not keep. 

*' What shall I do?" the deacon said. 

He paused awhile, and scratched his head. 

The deacon was a thoughtful man 

And thus at last he formed his plan : 

He said, " Here is a barrel handy 

ril put them in and fill with brandy, 

And when the cask is stored away 

I think the fruit will not decay." 

'Twas done, but e'er a year passed by 
The deacon found the barrel dry ; 



104 

But how the brandy had passed out 
The deacon oft expressed a doubt. 
No leak was found, the floor was dry, 
To solve the doubt he long did try ; 
But neighbors winked and said they knevv- 
The purple color brighter grew 
Upon the dear old deacon's face, 
Caused, as they thought, by spirit grace. 

The fact was clear, no matter why, 
The cherries in the cask were dry. 
'Tis autumn now, the cherry tree 
With fairest fruit is filled, you see ; 
To solve the doubt he can't explain 
The deacon tries it o'er again. 
The cherries in the cask they waste. 
And in the cask fresh fruit is placed ; 
Those taken from the cask 'tis known 
Into the ditch were careless thrown. 

The widow's turkeys every one 
Were suffered in the streets to run ; 
They on this afternoon did stray 
Where these waste cherries tempting lay. 
A gobbler spied them first of all 
And to his flock he loud did call ; 
Now see them gather quickly round 
The " treasure trove" that he has found.. 

Helter-skelter! it is fun 
To see the widow's turkeys run ; 
Round the pile of cherries see 
All the turkeys in their glee. 
Crowding, pushing, eating fast. 
Will that pile of cherries last ? 



105 

Yes, each turkey, young and old. 
Has eaten all his crop can hold ; 
And as they start for home again 
Piles of cherries still remain. 
See them, as homeward now they go. 
Oh, don't they make a goodly show? 
How solemnly the turkey throng 
Upon the road now march along. 

But hark ! what means that strife and gabble 

That rivals far-famed ancient Babel? 

What means that screaming, jostling, fighting, 

That flying, tumbling, spurring, biting? 

The turkeys, late so very civil, 

Now act as if the ancient devil 

That drove the swine of Galilee 

In such mad haste into the sea. 

Had traded for each turkey's soul 

And o'er them now had full control. 

The widow heard the fearful clatter — 
*'0 Lord!" she cried. " what is the matter?" 
Her turkeys some are staggering, flying, 
Some on the ground in death are lying. 
Oh, is it not a fearful sight 
To see them in their drunken plight. 
And hear their screams that rend the air. 
Like anyJDonnybrook affair. 

But soon 'tis o'er, for all around. 
Laid out in state upon the ground. 
The widow's turkeys every one 
That lately did so proudly run. 
Gone is, alas! each turkey's breath, 
And all are now so still in death : 



106 

The widow's tears now fast are falling 
As she surveys the scene appalling. 

" Come, Betty, come," the widow said, 
" See, here my turkeys are, all dead ; 
Gone is, alas ! the shining gold 
That would be mine had they been sold ; 
Their feathers now at least we'll save 
Before their bodies fill the grave.'' 
The turkeys in a pile are laid. 
And now the widow and her maid 
Begin their work, and through the day 
The turkeys' feathers pull away, 
Until at last each turkey's seen 
Of every feather plucked quite clean. 
When finished, 'tis too late at night 
To bury them from human sight ; 
The widow left them, in her sorrow. 
For burial upon the morrow. 

But e'er the earliest morning ray 

The brandy fumes had passed away ; 

Oh, what a sight it was to see 

These turkeys in their agony ! 

Their skins were torn, their feathers gone, 

Sick, lame, and plucked, sad and forlorn, 

They huddle in this chilly morn. 

Gone is each gobbler's bearing proud. 

Still are their voices late so loud ; 

They show no more their feathers gay, 

For all, alas ! are torn away. 

And they are left in deep distress 

To mourn in shame their nakedness. 

Their voices, which were late so loud 
While strutting round so gay and proud„ 



107 

Have lost their merry music gay : 

Now, " quit! quit! quit!" is all they say, 

And this in shame and sorrow low 

As in by-paths they slyly go, 

In their forlorn, degraded plight, 

To hide their nakedness from sight. 

These turkeys ne'er will taste again 
If piles of cherries strew the plain ; 
They'll pass in haste the tempting treat 
And cry "quit! quit!" before they eat : 
One plucking will for turkeys do. 
You'll, never catch them wanting two. 



MORAL. 

Young men, beware of gin and rum 
Whate'er the shape in which they come ; 
Howe'er disguised it is a sin 
To take the cursed poison in. 
Shun all that will intoxicate, 
And thus you'll shun the turkeys' fate ; 
And constant cry " quit ! quit !" before 
The deadly stuff shall pass your door. 
Don't wait I don't wait till you are seen 
Of every feather plucked quite clean ; 
But have the spunk to "quit! quit!" cry 
Whene'er its form doth meet the eye : 
Don't, dont be stripped, by friends in town, 
Like turkeys of the Widow Brown. 



108 



THE BOSTON TEA PARTY.. 

WRITTEN FOR THE CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION. IN. MONT- 

PELIER, DECEMBER l6, 1873, OF THE TEA PARTY 

IN BOSTON, DECEMBER 1 6, 1 773- 

One hundred years ago to-day 
Three ships in Boston Harbor lay, 

From o'er the stormy sea ; 
Across the main, with sails unfurled, 
They sought this then young western world — 

Their freight, inspiring Tea. 

By order of a tyrant king 

They came, the long-loved tea to bring. 

To tempt the Pilgrim band ; 
They thought the flavor of the tea 
Would make the colonies agree 

The tax on tea to stand : 

But not a Yankee could be found. 
Upon New England's rocky ground. 

Who would a penny pay ; 
They'd sooner steep the precious tea 
In water of the briny sea 

In Boston's sheltered bay. 

In rage they cried, " We slaves shall be 
If we the duty pay on tea 

By England's laws imposed !" 
The sun upon their wrath went down. 
And o'er the wild, excited town 

The darkness slowly closed.. 



109 

The gathering crowds swayed to and fro, 
No word was spoke, but murmurs low 

Were heard on every side ; 
And mid the crowd upon the green 
Full many a woman's form was seen 

The excited mass to guide. 

But look ! from yonder Indian graves 
Arise a noble band of braves 

In chieftains* armor drest ; 
With hammers, hatchets, bars, arrayed, 
Their way towards the ships they made 

And up their sides they prest. 

Upon the deck the bra\es now spring, 
Each axe and hammer loud doth rino- 

o 

Until each hatch gives way ; 
The chests in pieces stove, you see. 
And all that nice and precious tea 

Is cast into the bay. 

The tea was cast into the ba\-. 

And England's power soon passed away, 

For freedom they did fight : 
The sons and daughters of the free. 
Throughout the land, are drinking tea 

In every town to-night. 



10 



,10 



LINES ON THE DEATH OF EDWIN 
DILLINGHAM: 

MAJOR OF THK lOTH REGIMENT VERMONT VOLUNTEERS, WHO 
WAS KILLED IN BATTLE NEAR WINCHESTER, VIR- 
GINIA, WHILE GALLANTLY LEADING HIS 
REGIMENT ON THE FIELD. 

He fell, as a soldier should fall, 
At the head of his own gallant band ; 

He died, as a soldier should die, 
In defence of his own native land. 

He fell mid the battle's loud roar, 
Where the stars and the stripes proud did fly. 

His life to his country he gave — 
"■"Tis sweet for one's country to die." 

He fell in the spring-time of life 
His country from traitors to save, 

While the bugle, the drum and the fife 
Fired the hearts of the true and the brave. 

He died while the victor's shout 
Rang clear on the mountain air, 

While the foe in disordered rout 
Were fleeing in wildest despair. 

Vermont her proud record shall make 
And add to her long roll of fame. 

With the Aliens and Warners shell place 
Young Dillingham's glorious name. 



Ill 



THE PERSIAN QUEEN'S LAMENT. 

What though a crown is on my head, 

A sceptre in my hand ? 
Though servants follow where I tread, 

Or die at my command? 

What though I dwell in halls of state 

And rest on beds of down ? 
With slaves upon my steps to wait. 

And music care to drown ? 

Tm but a slave at fashion's shrine, 

A slave to power and pride ; 
A slave to gems from India's mine — 

A jealous husband's bride. 

I am the harem's queen to-day. 

Arrayed in silken sheen ; 
Perchance tomorrow cast away — 

The slave of some new queen. 

I long to leave these prison walls. 
Cast off these robes of state ; 

These gems and pearls, and gorgeous halls, 
And all this pomp 1 hate. 

• Love dwells not mid such pomp and pride. 
Mid pearls and gems and gold ; 

Though royal purple deck the bride, 
The heart is false and cold. 

Oh, could I to Circassia flee 

How blest would be my lot ; 



112 

Again my mother's face to see, 
To see my father's cot : 

Again to tread the paths I trod 
In youth, so free from care; 

Where first I kneeled before my God 
And Hsped my infant prayer. 

Where sisters fair and brothers true 
Played on the flowery lea, 

Or climbed the mountain side to view 
The distant, roaring sea. 

Yd rather on Circassians plain 
In humble garb be seen, 

Than in a Persian palace reign — 
Than be a Persian queen. 



BRAVK JOHN IVIAYNARD. 

[John Maynakd was well known as a sturtly, intelligent and 
(jiod-feaiing pilot, on Lake Erie. He liad cliarge of a steamer from 
Detroit to Huffalo, one summer afternoon. Attliat time those steam- 
ers seldom carried boats. 

Smoke was seen ascend ng from below, and the captain called 
out—" Simpson, go down and see what that smoke is." 

Simpson came up with his face as pale as ashes, and said: 
*' Captain, the ship is on fire!" 

"Fire! fire! tire!" instantly resounded in all flirections. All 
hands were called up. lUickets of water were dashed upon the 
flames, but in vain. There were large quantities of resin and tar 
on board, and it was useless to try to save the ship. Thepassengers 
rushed aft, and inquired of the pilot, " How far are we from land?" 

" Seven miles." 

" How long before we reach it?" 

"Three quarters of an hour, at< ur present rate of steam." 

" Is there any danger?" 

" Danger enough he7'e - see the smoke bursting out! go forward, 
if you would save your lives !" 

Passengers and crew, men, women and children, crowded to the 
forward part of the ship. John iMaynard stood at his post. The 



113 

flames burst forth in a sheet of tire; clouds of smoke arose; the 
captain called out through his trumpet, "John Maynard!" 

" Ay, ay, sir!" responded the brave old tar. 

" How does she head?" 

" South-east by east, sir." 

" Head her south-east, and run her on shore!" 

Nearer, yet nearer, she approached the shore. Again the cap- 
tain called out, " John Maynard !" The response came feebly, " Ay, 
ay, sir!" 

♦' Can you hold on live minutes longer, John?" 

" By God's help I will !" 

Tiie old man's hair was scorched from his scalp; one hand was 
disabled, and his teeth were set, yei he stood firm as i rock. He 
beached the ship— every man, woman and child was saved, as John 
Maynard dropped overboard and his spirit took its flight to his God. 

IJe sacrificed his life to s ive the lives of others. Noble John 
Mavnard! It is worth a greater effort to save a man from moral 
ruin.— JOHS B. GoUGH.] 

No wave is on Lake Erie's breast, 

Its waters clear are now at rest ; 

The noonday sun shines bright and gay, 

O'er island, river, lake and bay. 

No breeze doth now a ripple make 

On thy calm bosom, beauteous lake ; 

And each staunch ship, this summer's day, 

With sails all spread, doth idly lay. 

See yonder noble steamer go ! 

She's left Detroit for Buffalo ; 

See on her deck the living crowd. 

The poor, the rich, the gay, the proud ; 

The bashful maiden, young and fair. 

The matron with her snowy hair. 

The laughing babe, the thoughtless boy, 

The girl, her parents' pride and joy ; 

The man of middle age is there. 

The aged man with hoary hair. 

The speculator, sharp and keen, 

The verdant youth with heart yet green, 

The student with his learned lore. 

The miser with his golden ore, 



114 

The siren, seeking human prey, 
Are all upon the deck to-day ; 
A crowd so thoughtless on a boat 
Was seldom ever seen afloat. 



I need not tell of stolen glance 
That can the dear one's soul entrance ; 
The gentle touch, the whispered word 
That oft upon the boat is heard ; 
The shafts of wit so sharp and keen, 
And slander's darts from bows unseen. 
The laugh, the joke, the press of hands, 
Regardless now of marriage bands, 
The scenes that shock connubial bliss, 
The warm embrace, the stolen kiss, 
The darts that Cupid careless hurls 
From beaming eyes and waving curls, 
The crimson blush on beauty's cheek — 
No, no, of these I will not speak. 
They all upon this summer day 
Are happy, thoughtless, light and gay, 
And scenes of mirth and joy and pride 
Are seen around on every side. 

Now gaily on the boat doth go 
Toward the port of Buffalo. 
See in the pilot box doth stand 
John Maynard, he whose steady hand 
And skill upon the lake long tried 
Had wind and tempest oft defied. 
His head, from toil and age, appears 
White with the frosts of many years ; 
But yet his eyes and form doth show 
No change from years that rapid flow. 



115 

See, see his look of manly pride 
As he the noble ship doth guide ! 
On, on they go, all blithe and gay, 
And faster still they speed away 
Upon that beauteous inland sea, 
Happy as mortals well can be. 

Hark I hear that wild and fearful cry. 

Which, echoing back, the waves reply— 

Tis " Fire ! fire !" so sad to hear 

When heard on land by dwellers near. 

But still more sad when heard at sea : 

" The ship's on fire !" no place to flee, 

" The ship's on fire!" "The ship must burn !' 

Each man and woman cries in turn. 

The wildest screams now rend the air. 

Where late all mirth now reigns despair ; 

Her babe the mother to her heart 

Holds with resolve to never part, 

The wife doth to her husband cling. 

The children to their parents spring ; 

The fear of death the tongues untie 

Of bashful lovers, young and shy. 

Who now, by sight of death made brave. 

Resolve to share one common grave. 

What different thoughts their bosoms sway 
As they the rising flames survey : 
Her babe the mother doth enfold. 
The miser grasps his bonds and gold. 
The husband thinks of child and wife. 
The lover of the dear one's life ; 
And many now their God implore 
Who never prayed to Him before. 



116 

The flame doth high and hig-her rise, 
" All forward, now!'' the captain cries ; 
"John Maynard, head the boat to shore!" 
Is heard above the flames' wild roar ; 
" Ay, ay !" they hear his brave reply, 
Though hid by smoke from every eye. 
Instant for shore the vessel flies. 
While higher still the flames arise ; 
Fast as the greyhound from the slip 
Toward the shore now flies the ship ; 
Around the bow, with prayer and fear, 
The passengers and crew appear, 
While brave John Maynard firm doth stand 
Guiding the vessel to the land ; 
On him, in this wild hour of strife. 
Rests every person's chance of life. 

The flames are gathering round him fast. 
Still on the shore his eye is cast ; 
The flames are fiercely circling now 
Around his white and manly brow : 
His hair is gone! he's lost one hand ! 
Firm as a rock he yet doth stand ! 
His teeth are set, to God he prays, 
Still at his post he nobly stays. 

Now on the shore the vessel see ! 
And all are safe — but where is he, 
He who thus nobly saved their lives, 
Restored the husbands to their wives. 
Wives to their husbands, all to life. 
In this wild hour of fearful strife ? 

He's dead ! he perished where he stood, 
A martyr for the public good ; 



117 

He, e'er the vessel touched the shore, 

Sank in the flames to rise no more. 

While on the deck he dying gasped 

His hand the wheel still strongly clasped ; 

And after he so nobly died 

His dead hand did the vessel guide ; 

He died the lives of all to save, 

He fills a martyr's honored grave. 

Upon the temple built to Fame 
Is found no purer, holier name 
Than thine, John Maynard, who did give 
Thy life that others still might live. 
More noble thou in death than those 
Who die in fight with bravest foes ; 
'Tis easy, midst the maddening strife 
Of war's wild scenes, to yield your life ; 
To meet the foe when blood is high — 
*' 'Tis for your country sweet to die" : 
But few, like thee, their life will give 
That others by their death may live. 



ON THE CAPTURE OP^ CHARLESTON, S.^C. 

Charleston's fallen I shout and sing I 
Cannon roar, and bells loud ring I 
Wake the bugle's sweetest note. 
Let the star-deck"d banner float! 
From the mountain to the sea 
Wake the song of jubilee I 



Charleston's fallen ! hear the cry 
Echo from each mountain high ; 



118 

Through the east, the west, the north, 
Speed the glorious tidings forth ; 
Let a nation great and free 
Sing the song of jubilee ! 

Charleston's fallen ! see on high 
O'er its domes our banners fly ; 
Where late wav'd the traitor " Bars " 
Proudly floats the " Stripes and Stars,' 
And the slaves, from bondage free. 
Sing the song of jubilee ! 

Charleston's fallen ! it was here 
Treason did her standard rear ; 
It was here the deed was done — 
Here the cursed war begun ; 
But the traitors bow the knee. 
Wake the song of jubilee ! 

Charleston's fallen ! see them fly ! 
See the flames ascend the sky ! 
Traitor hands the torch applied 
To the city late their pride ; 
While its lurid flames you see. 
Sing the song of jubilee ! 

Charleston's fallen ! shout and sing ! 
Cannon roar, and bells loud ring! 
Over Charleston's towers on high 
See the star-decked banner fly ! 
Praise the Lord, ye brave and free, 
God alone gives victory, 
1865. 



119 



THE FUGITIVE'S FLIGHT. 

[The following is a fancy sketch. The scene is laid before the 
passage of the Fugitive Slave Law, or the invention ol the Tele- 
graph. It is not pretended that the story is founded on fact; it is 
simply a fancy sketch.] 

Spring smiled upon Kentucky's shore, 
Where late the wintry winds did roar ; 
The snow that in her valleys lay 
By sun and breeze melts fast away, 
And every stream in glen and dell 
The famed Ohio's wild waves swell. 

Where late King Frost, from shore to shore, 

The river wide had so bridged o'er 

That men and teams could fearless go 

(While dark the waters ran below) 

From proud Kentucky's fertile plains. 

Where Slavery in her glory reigns, 

To young Ohio's fields of light. 

Where Freedom waves her banner white 

And gives the fugitive from chains 

A shelter on her boundless plains. 

On plain and hill the drifted snow 
Fast melts beneath the sun's warm glow, 
From every glen the water gushes, 
See down the mountain side it rushes. 
And gathering, as it sweeps along, 
Increasing power and force more strong. 
So strong that naught its power can stay : 
The icy bands are giving way 
That lately chained the river's pride — 
They're bursting now on every side. 



120 

How grand the sight ! the rushing tide 
Is sweeping on now dark and wide, 
Boiling and surging, onward dashing, 
The floating ice is breaking, crashing. 
Now wilder still the scene doth grow, 
As onward, on, the waves fast flow, 
While every stream and torrent wild, 
With waters dark and ice high-piled. 
Pours down from mountain and from wood 
To swell the proud Ohio's flood 
As onward, on, the river flows 
Roaring and crashing as it goes. 

See yonder maid so slight and fair, 
With tattered dress, disheveled hair, 
Wending her way from home afar, 
Her only guide the northern star. 
Why does she shun the traveled way ? 
Why shelter seek in forests gray? 
Why toil by night and sleep by day ? 

Go view her now in yonder glen, 

Hid from the prying eyes of men ; 

All night her northern course she's kept. 

All day in glen has watched and slept ; 

Watchful as is the timid deer 

Close to the ground she's placed her ear 

That she the slightest noise may hear. 

Her youthful form is fair and light. 
Her large black eyes how dazzling bright : 
Her age it scarce can be sixteen, 
She seems to me some fairy queen. 
Some beauteous ghost, or wandering fay 
That loves the night and shuns the day. 



1^1 

That beauteous maid, so young and Israve, 
Wps born, alas! a humble slave; 
Though born in slavery's galling chains 
Kentucky's best blood fills her veins. 
No stain of Afric's blood doth show 
On her fair brow of mountain snow ; 
Nothing but pure Caucassian blood 
Pours through her veins its boiling flood. 
Her mother fair and white appears, 
But, tracing back two hundred years, 
Her ancestry on Afric's plain 
In regal splendor long did reign : 
At length subdued, were torn away 
And sold, alas! in slavery : 
And for the last tvvo hundred years 
Their masters, tlie proud cavaliers, 
Have washed away each sable trace 
Of Afric's blood that stained the face. 
Till naught is left of Afric's strain 
But slavery's accursed chain. 

Her father was her master's son. 
But she at cards was lost and won : 
The planter thought the maiden's face 
Would well his southern harem grace. 
And gloried in the happy hour 
That gave the maiden to his power. 
He gave her warning of the day 
That to the south they'd wend their way,- 
There she must yield unto his claim 
And live with him a life of shame. 

When this she heard her fevered blood 
Rushed to her heart its ebbing flood,. 
11 



122 

And left her face as pale and white 
As sheeted ghost that shuns the light. 
Her eyes are turned to Heaven above 
Pure as the maid who dies for love : 
A moment passed, the blood once more 
Back to the face in torrents pour. 
Her eyes with fire again grow bright, 
She seems transformed, a child of light : 
All trace of fear has left her face 
And calm resolve supplies its place ; 
Her future plans for life are made, 
And thus for help divine she prayed : 

" Father, a suppliant unto Thee 
I bow my head and bend my knee. 
And crave from Thee Thy help to aid,. 
In her distress, a humble maid. 
Protect my life, my pathway guide. 
Be ever present by my side ; 
Guard me from every sin and strife, 
And from pollution keep my life. 
Rather than live in sin would I, 
In youth's bright springtime, early die : 
Pure have I been and pure will be. 
Rather than sin PU go to Thee. 
I from my home this night will fly,. 
Free will I live, as free will die. 

" Father, while flying from my foe. 
By night or day, pray with me go ; 
Guard, as of old, my path aright. 
Be cloud by day, be fire by night, 
And should I reach the Ohio wide, 
Let Thy right hand its waves divide 



123 

And save my life from sin and shame 
-And I will ever bless Thy name." 

That night when darkness veiled the sky 
The maiden from her home did fly ; 
In her right hand a dagger bright 
Gleams faintly in the stars' pale light, 
Ready, if round her close the foe, 
To instant give a fatal blow 
That will for aye her body free 
From shame and sin of slavery. 

Night after night she's kept her way, 
Her only light the stars' dim ray ; 
Weary and worn by watch and toil, 
She fast is nearing freedom's soil. 
With one more night her toil is o'er, 
She'll reach at last fair freedom's shore 
Where, free from slavery's sin and strife, 
She hopes to lead a virtuous life. 

Now watch her in yon lonely glen 
Where since the dawn this day she's been ; 
See, see! she moves! what does she fear? 
Upon the ground now rests her ear 
That she the slightest noise may hear. 
She starts with fear and runs with might. 
Ah, what has caused this sudden flight? 
Hark! 'tis the savage bloodhounds' bay. 
Scenting afar their destined prey ! 
On flies the maid like startled fawn, 
Through glen and wood, o'er dale and lawn 
Slow on her track the bloodhounds keep, 
While down each road the hunters sweep, 



124 

But bravely on the maiden goes 
Before her brute and human foes. 

And now she stands upon the shore 
Of the Ohio, which, passed o'er, 
Her slavery ends forevermore. 
The waves before her roar and boil. 
The hunters close behind her toil. 
The dogs are following in the chase, 
One savage hound leads on the race : 
The maiden calm the scene surveys 
And thus to Heaven she fervent prays : 

" Father, to Thee my life 1 give. 

In vice and sin I will not live ; 

Rather than let me live a slave 

O give to me a watery grave. 

Yonder my master comes with power 

To drag me to his loathsome bower ; 

He comes, with hounds and hunters wild. 

To ruin Thy yet virgin child. 

In Thee I put my trust this day. 

And unto Thee I humbly pray 

That o'er yon waters raging wild 

Thy hand support Thy feeble child. 

Thou, who the Red Sea did divide, 

Canst calm for me this raging tide. 

And guard me in my passage o'er, 

On floating ice, to yonder shore ; 

Father, my life I trust to Thee, 

As Moses when he crossed the sea 

From Pharaoh's host and slavery." 

Loud shouts behind are in her ear. 
That sliow the hounds and hunters near ; 



125 

The leading hound has reached the maid, 
See instant gleams the dagger's blade, 
And as to seize the maid he tries 
With one loud yell he sinks and dies! 

A field of ice is floating by. 

See, see the maiden's watchful eye 

Measures its distance from the shore 

Across the billows angry roar : 

See, see it slowly nears the land 

Where yon pale maiden now doth stand — 

Her only chance to \scape from sin 

Is yonder field of ice to win. 

It nears the shore! see, see her bound 

Across the waves from baying hound ! 

She gains the ice and from her foes 

Fast down the rapid stream she goes. 

She, mid the wild waves roar and din, 

Is safe from slavery's blighting sin. 

Trusting in Him who calmed the sea 

In ancient days in (ialilee. 

And now upon the river's shore 

The gathering hounds and hunters pour; 

The hot pursuit and chase is o'er. 

No hound or hunter dare abide, 

On ice, in boat, the raging tide. 

Chained to the spot each heart beats high, 

And from the maid none turned the eye, 

As she from field to field flies o'er. 

Safe on the ice as on the shore ; 

And as she gains the further side, 

In spite of loss and wounded pride. 

Her master and his hunters gay 

Loud cheered the maiden on her wav : 



126 

For there are few so base and cold. 
That can a noble deed behold 
And still withhold the honor due 
To actions noble, brave and true. 



EVENING HYMN. 

To Thee, O God, who reigns on high,. 
Who fills the earth, the sea, the sky, 

Our humble voice we raise ; 
Thou only source of perfect joy, 
Thou pleasures give that never cloy. 

We join to sing Thy praise. 

Thou giv'st to us the radiant sun. 
Thou guid'st him in his course to run 

Till shades of night appear ; 
Thou giv'st us then the queen of night 
To cheer us with her paler light. 

And stars so bright and clear. 

To Thee, O God, we humbly pray 
To banish earthly cares away 

Till morning's light we see ; 
Let gentle slumber seek each bed. 
Let angels watch around each head — 

Father, we trust in Thee. 



127 



THINGS ARE NOT ALWAYS WHAT THEY SEEM. 

Once on a time I chanced to be 

Passing from mountain to the sea 

Along a river's winding way, 

Whose banks by flowers were oft made gay. 

Sometimes through woods I careless strayed, 

And sometimes where the sunbeams played ; 

Sometimes o'er rocks my path I found, 

And sometimes through the swampy ground. 

The scene was ever changing there, 

From deep morass to prairie fair ; 

From swamps enshrouded deep in gloom 

To banks of flowers in perfect bloom. 

And from the mountain to the ocean 

The river kept in constant motion, 

And flowed with still increasing powers 

By deep morass and fields of flowers. 

While passing thus adown the stream 
I saw the sun's last parting beam ; 
The night her curtain soon closed down 
And darkness settled o'er the town. 
No moon displayed her borrowed light 
And not a star illumin'd the night ; 
But mists and exhalations deep 
Their watch above the earth did keep, 
And fog and cloud shut out the light 
And dark and dismal was the night. 
Yet onward still I pressed my way. 
Which through a deep morass then lay,. 
Where noxious vapors from each fen 
Convey disease and death to men. 



128 

"Which should with care be shunned by all 

Before infection cause their fall. ^ 

While through the swamps I journe3'ed on, 

The light of day had long been gone ; 

I onward slow and cautious went, 

To reach the prairie I was bent ; 

I longed the open land to find 

And leave the swamp and fog behind. 

While passing through the pathway slow, 

Beside the path I saw the glow 

Of something wondrous fair and bright 

That burst in glory on my sight. 

" What can it be," I instant cried, 

" That sends it rays on every side? 

What gem is this of countless worth. 

To which the swamp has given birth. 

That sparkles thus before my eyes? 

ni seize at once the glittering prize — 

A prize so rare will gold command 

And make me richest in the land, 

Then I shall have a rarer gem 

Than e'er graced monarch's diadem."' 

With beating heart I seized the prize 
And gazed on it with wondering eyes ; 
But oh ! my hopes of late so gay 
In disappointment passed away ! 
I found that gay and brilliant liglTt, 
That showed such splendor in the night, 
Was naught but piece of rotten wood 
With phosphorescent light imbued 



IThis river represents the life of man from the craflle to the 
grave. It sometimes i)asses throngh pleasant places, and sometimes 
throngh scenes of vice and all manner of vile and loathsome places 
like the sinks of iniquity in large cities, which are as destructive to 
life as the fabled Upas tree of Java was said to have been. 



129 

Which glowed so brightly through the night. 
But when 'twas seen by morning light 
Showed rotten wood and nothing more — 
It's pride and splendor all were o'er 
Examined by the light of day — 
I cast the worthless thing away. 

But when 1 seized the glittering prize 

That looked so brilliant to my eyes. 

My fingers touched a pebble stone 

On which the rotten wood thus shone. 

"Twas round and smooth, no color bright. 

From its dark sides, burst on the sight ; 

Unto the eye it had the look 

Of some small pebble from the brook : 

I took the stone with whicli to play 

As onward still I kept my way, 

But when examined by the light 

This stone, so worthless to the sight, 

When its rough coat was cut away 

With brilliant radiance glittered gay, 

And showed to my astonished eyes 

A tliamond of the largest size. 

This showed my statement not a dream — 

" Things are not always what they seem.'"^ 

So "tis with us as fast we sail 

The voyage of life before the gale 

That bears us, with resistless power, 

From natal to the mortal hour ; 

We oft shun diamonds, rough but good. 

For phosphorescent rotten wood. 

Go pass with me the crowded street 
And view the maidens tliat we meet : 



130 

Though dressed in silks and laces fine, 
Adorned with gems from India's mine, 
With cheeks where roses blushing grow 
Above a neck of purest snow, 
Say, can a stranger tell the good 
From phosphorescent rotten w^ood? 

Next view the candidates for power 
In this our nation's trying hour ; 
See those that boast their patriot zeal 
.And labor for the public weal ; 
Tell how they love their country dear, 
And point to rocks and breakers near 
On which the ship of state will strand 
Unless 'tis guided by their hand : 
That all must heed the words they said 
And follow in the steps they tread. 
Or else the nation, filled with woe, 
With speed will to destruction go — 
Say, can you tell the wise and good 
From phosphorescent rotten wood? 

Next view the priests that pulpits fill 
To virtue in our hearts instil ; 
■See eloquent and strong men there 
And hear each zealous, fervent prayer. 
Hear orators their powers display 
To drive all evil thoughts away, 
And use the skill to them that's given 
To lead the doubting soul to Heaven. 
But some, I fear, in evil hour, 
Enter the yielding maiden's bower, 
As did the serpent Eden's gate, 
That realm of bliss to desolate. 



131 



Here oic you'll see the dazzling light 
Is not the glow of diamonds bright— 
That some called brilliant, wise and good 
Are phosphorescent rotten wood. 



THE CAUSE AND CURE. 

I saw a maid the other day, 

When straight my heart began to play 

And leap within my breast ; 
And oh ! it wild and wilder played, 
The more I gazed upon the maid, 

Until it broke my rest. 

Now through th^ night and through the day 
The hours so slowly pass'd away 

Each moment seemed a year ; 
" Alas : thought I,'' what can it be,. 
What sad disorder is on me ? 

I to the grave draw near. 

"Is it consumption's lingering spell,. 
Or does a fever in me dwell ? 

Tell me, good sir,'' I cried ; 
" A fever rages in each vein, 
Consumption does your vigor drain," 

The doctor quick replied. 

"O Doctor! then is this my case, 
And am I hastening on apace 

Unto the silent grave? 
Cannot thy wisdom, sir, impart 
Some nice direction of your art 

My humble life to save?" 



182 

*' O yes, dear sir, if you'll attend 
To my instructions, as a friend, 

You yet may happy be." 
" My dear, dear sir, if you will cure 
The misery I now endure 

rU gladly pay your fee/' 

" Youve only, sir, to wed the maid, 
Whom you with pleasure late surveyed, 

And all your pains will cease.'"' 
I quickly made the girl my wife 
And now each moment of my life 
I pass in joy and peace. 
1832. 



VERMONT— A TOAST. 

Though cotton on her hills won't grow, 
Nor rice where her pure waters flow, 
Nor e'en tobacco on each plain, 
Nor in our swamps the sugar cane ; 
Yet we can boast the noble steed, 
Excelled by none for power and speed ; 
Upon our mountain pastures sleep 
The fattest stock, the largest sheep ; 
Within the earth's remotest bound, 
The purest marble here is found ; 
And bravest sons that flag unfurled — 
And women that can beat the world. 



133 



THE RUMSELLER. 

Which is the blackest crime, tell if you can, 
That in this age man doth inflict on man? 
Search ye the fearful catalogue of crime, 
Search ye each nation, ev'ry race and clime, 
And tell me which, of all that curse our race. 
For deeds abhor'd should claim the highest place. 

Is it the murderer, watching for his prey, 

Who doth his rival in the darkness slay? 

Or base assassin who doth stealthy creep 

To stab his victim in his quiet sleep? 

Is it the pirate on the stormy main 

Who robs and murders from the thirst of gain? 

Or base land-pirate who, mid shades of night. 

On rocky shore displays his treachYous light 

To lure the vessel to a watery grave, 

The crew to kill and the rich cargo save? 

Or he that scatters poison far and wide 

To riot in the wealth of those who died ? 

Or prowling fire-bug, who with flaming brand. 

Spreads desolation lhr(High our happy land? 

No, none of these, for crimes most foul and base. 
For damning deeds, can claim the highest place. 
These crimes are white to his you constant meet. 
Who walks in pride along each crowded street. 
Admired and honored as almost divine, 
Who oft at church partakes of bread and wine, 
Yet who, from thirst of gold, to all doth sell 
Distilled datnnatiflti filled with fires of Hell, 
12 



134 

That causes murder, suicide and strife, 
And all the many ills of human life : 
His is the meanest, deepest, blackest crime 
That can exist in any land or clime. 

The murderer leaves his victim in his gore. 

If sharp the pain, a moment and 'tis o'er; 

The assassin's knife his victim's heart may gain, 

And for an instant sharp may be the pain ; 

The pirate's victim finds a watery grave, 

A moment struggling, sinks beneath the wave ; 

The ship decoyed amid the shades of night, 

Led from its path by wreckers' dazzling light, 

Is dashed in pieces on the rocks below 

And all the crew unto the bottom go ; 

The poisoner's victim does not cast disgrace 

On friends or kin, or on the human race, 

Though he may writhe in agony and pain 

On his fair fame there is no blot or stain ; 

Or should he perish by the fire-bug's brand, 

His name would still be honored through the land. 

The friends of these can gather round the bier 
To take the last farewell and drop a tear : 
Upon each face will be no blush of shame. 
They've done no deed to sully their fair fame ; 
Each wife and child will mourn the honored dead 
And plant fair flowers above each sleeper's head. 
And in each heart affection they will hold 
Until the living heart is dead and cold. 

But the poor victim of rumsellers' sway. 
Who quaffs the deadly poison day by day, 
Oft sinks from alfluence to want and woe. 
The road is steep and rapidly they go ; 



135 

Not one that sells will truly try to save 
His falling victim from a drunkard's grave. 

See yonder hovel, death hath entered there — 
Aye, start not back in horror and despair — 
In yonder corner you may there behold 
A man who last night perished in the cold : 
Around the dead the wife and children see 
And hear their frantic cries of agony ! 

That man who last night perished in the street — 
Who in the storm a drunkard's death did meet — 
Had drank so much at store of Deacon Low 
He fell and perished in the drifting snow. 

Once he was loved and honored in the land, 

He and his wife did with the noblest stand ; 

His stately mansion by the river side 

Was built in honor of his fair young bride ; 

There they did happy live from day to day, 

And year on year did rapid pass away. 

His wealth was ample for their wants in life, 

The hours passed swiftly, free from care and strife ; 

And soon their home was with dear children blest 

And all to make home happy they possessed. 

All was harmonious until Deacon Low 

Enticed this man into his store to go ; 

There first the Deacon taught him how to drain 

The cup that doth intoxicate the brain ; 

There with convivial friends the hours pass'd by. 

With song and wine old Time did rapid fly ; 

They cracked their jokes, and told the oft told story, 

And Bacchus reigned supreme in all his glory. 



136 

For days and months at twilight hour they go 
The eve to spend within the shop of Low ; 
Although they drink until they happy feel 
They do not drink till they like drunkards reel ; 
They do not think they drink to do them harm, 
But just enough that 'twill their bosoms warm. 

The earth continued on its daily round, 
This man at Low's each eve was constant found : 
At first his friends but little danger feel, 
But as time passed they saw him homeward reel, 
They tried their best their dearest friend to save 
From want and woe and from a drunkard's grave. 

It was too late ! no friend his course could stay. 
No tears or prayers could check his downward way ; 
His children's prayers, the entreaties of his wife 
On him were powerless, he'd not change his life. 
"The Rubicon was passed," they could not stay 
His rapid course upon his downward way 
To poverty and want and deep disgrace 
And death, which always ends the drunkard's race. 

I need not paint the scenes you constant see, 
The changes wrought from wealth to poverty, 
As down the road to death the drunkards go ; 
I need not tell you of the scenes of woe 
You constant see when fathers, husbands, fall 
And at the cursed rumshops spend their all. 

This man to drink had now become a slave, 
From ruin now no human power could save : 
His loving wife did to the Deacon go 
And tell to him her bitter tale of woe, 



137 

And unto him in tears she did implore 
That to her husband he would sell no more. 
Unto her prayers the Deacon thus did say : 
" Madam, I liquor sell to all who pay, 
I make my living in this lawful way. 
My license gives me right to sell to all, 
I sell to those who for my liquors call ; 
Long as your husband pays I sha'n't say no, 
While he can pay my liquors free shall flow : 
Madam, at home far better you'd appear 
Minding your business than be meddling here." 

Low's liquor free unto tliis man did flow — 
That noble mansion now is owned by Low ; 
He now doth dwell in yonder mansion gay — 
The drunkard did in this poor hovel stay ; 
Here dwells the wife so late a happy bride, 
Here dwell the children, late their parents' pride ; 
Their wealth is gone, the rumshop took it all 
From wealth to poverty Riun caused their fall ; 
Here famine gaunt did for his victim wait 
And hunger constant hovered round their gate. 

Their food was out, their fire but dimly burned, 
The wife had saved some cash her labor earned, 
The storm so fierce last night she could not go 
For Avood and food into the drifting snow. 
She to her husband did the money pay 
For wood and food to meet the coming day : 
He took the money food and wood to buy, 
But when Low's rumshop chanced to meet his eye 
He thought he'd take one drink as he passed by : 
Low had not treated him for many a day — 
Because he had not cash for rum to pay — 



138 

He entered, Low his cash by chance did see, 
That night tor liim again the drinks were free. 

The wood and food for wife and children dear, 

By liquor filled were all forgotten here ; 

He drank and drank until his cash had flown, 

Then in the street Low turned him out alone ; 

He turned him, drunk, into the lonely street 

Where no kind friend the wretched man did meet, 

He turned him out, when winds were raging high, 

Into the stormy night alone to die : 

Last night he perished in the drifting snow — 

'Twas caused by liquor that was sold by Low. 

Think of the agony and mental pain 

Of wife and children, who at home remain. 

As slow the hours of night did pass away 

While father, husband, thus from home did stay! 

Think of their grief as on the dead ihey gaze 

And think upon their home of former days 

E'er the fell arts of that rumseller, Low, 

Had changed their state from wealth to want and woe ; 

And think, as now they gather round the dead. 

Though fierce the storm, they have no wood or bread; 

Though once they'd wealth they clearl)- now can see 

By Low's vile rum they're sunk to penury ; 

That on cold charity they must rely. 

Unaided, now by hunger they must die. 

Here having viewed this scene so desolate 
And seen the horrors of the drunkard's fate, 
Now go with me to yonder mansion gay, 
A scene of death we will again survey ; 
Yon mansion makes a fair and goodly show. 
But not so grand as that now owned by Low. 



11:^9 

See on yon bed a man in eleath doth sleep, 
While round the corse his wife and children weep ; 
A tender husband there doth quiet rest, 
A loving father by his children blest. 

To seize his wealth last night assassins crept 
Into his room, where he in quiet slept, 
There, without warning, stabbed him in his breast,. 
Then all the bonds and money he possessed 
They stole and carried from the house away. 
And in the storm escaped before the day. 

Which crime was worst, now answer me, I pray : 
The end the same, they both their victims slay. 
The same the object, avarice, thirst for gold — 
Your wealth unscrupulous to gain and hold? 
The murderer left his victim in his gore. 
Though sharp the pain, a moment and 'twas o'er,- 
The murdered man no sense of shame doth give 
To cause a crimson blush on those that live ; 
His mourning friends can meet around his bier 
To speak his praise and drop the silent tear, 
And dwell with pleasure on the life he led 
Before the assassin's dagger struck him dead ; 
Though by the murderer's blade in darkness slaia. 
On his fair fame it left no blot or stain. 

Not so the drunkard dies : his friends may say 

The world lost nothing when he passed away ; 

No use was he to friends and kindred dear. 

Who always lived in constant dread and fear 

That he, when drunk, by chance might lose his life. 

Or perish shameful in some deadly strife. 

Or in fierce storms might perish by the way. 

Or in some desperate fight his friends might slay.. 



140 

Who would not rather that their friends should fall 
By midnight murder or assassin's ball 
Than live a drunkard's life of shame and fear 
And downward rush, as year rolls after year? 
One whom you know you have not power to save, 
One who too soon must fill a drunkard's grave : 
The murderer's crimes quite pale you see become 
Compared with his who freely deals in rum. 

From age to age King Alcohol hath been 

The dread and terror of all thinking men ; 

We from our youth oft see the drunkard go 

From wealth and happiness to want and woe : 

See wife and children share the drunkard's state 

And mourn with them their most unhappy fate. 

But seen so oft of course we pass them by 

Without a thought wherein the crime doth lie : 

But look the matter squarely in the face. 

And to its source the fearful crime now trace, 

You'll find of all the crimes upon the earth 

That in the nations ever had its birth, 

The source from which most crimes on earth do come. 

Is from the sale of whiskey, gin and rum. 

And that the blackest crime that tongue can tell 

Is his who liquor to the people sell : 

Who doth for love of gold spread ruin wide, 

The cause of murder, strife and suicide. 

Then shun rumsellers, wheresoe'er they dwell. 
Shun them, as you'd shun fire that burns in Hell I 
Keep ye, oh, keep ye from its deadly stain. 
And free and happy you will long remain. 



141 



THE SERPENT AND THE WOODPECKER. 

A FABLE. 

The reptiles of the field, we find, 
Act often like the human kind ; 
Although unlike in form and face 
Yet in their actions we can trace 
How, by their instinct, oft they can 
Act just like noble, reasoning man. 
To show you that they both agree 
This story 1 will tell to thee : 

Upon a sminy summer day 

Once, when a boy, I clianced to stray 

Into a cool and shady wood 

Where ancient trees thick round me stood. 

I in this cool, delightful shade 

A couch of leaves with care had made, 

Then laid me down upon the ground. 

While birds made music all around. 

While thus I lay a gentle breeze 
Sang sweetly through the waving trees ; 
And there in dreamy state I lay 
As slowly passed the hours away. 

While thus I lay upon the ground, 
Half dreaming, gazing all around, 
Not distant far I chanced to see 
A noble ancient forest tree : 
Some fifty feet above the ground 
Two equal branches there I found 



142 

The one was clothed with leaves of green, 
The other leafless may be seen, 
.For accident had caused decay 
And all its leaves had passed away 
Some years ago and now 'tis seen 
Devoid of all thaf s fair and green. 

I saw a bird with skill and care 

Had bored this branch, so dry and bare, 

.And in its bosom built her nest 

Where her young brood could safely rest. 

The birds unwearied sought for food 

To feed their hungry callow brood ; 

Their stay was short, they come and go 

Not thinking any cunning foe 

-Did near their nest in ambush wait 

To change to grief their happy state. 

While thus I lay upon the ground 

By chance I cast my eyes around. 

When I with terror there did see, 

Slow gliding towards the birds-nest tree, 

A serpent of a larger size 

Than e'er before had met my eyes. 

In terror I in silence lay. 

Lest she should chance for me to stray ; 

1 watched her close, she neared the tree. 

And watched the birds I plain could see ; 

She saw them come and saw them go. 

As on the ground she watched below, 

And then her plans with skill she laid, 

And every calculation made. 

That on those birds she could be fed 

And not go supperless to bed: 



143 

For instinct we in reptiles find, 
Like reason in the human kind, 
Prompts them to seize with greedy hand 
Upon the choice things in the land, 
And e'er they long shall hunger bear 
On beast or bird or fish they'll fare. 
And live by force of fraud and might 
And not by equity and right. 

Her plans are laid, now look and see 
She winds herself about the tree ; 
See her now ! she rises fast ! 
She's gained the lofty top at last 
And mid the leaves is now at rest ; 
Her head is near the birdies' nest, 
Safe hid amid the leaves of green 
She cannot by the birds be seen. 
There like a Wall- street broker she 
Watches the coming birds to see 
To swallow them in ecstacy. 

See how snug and still she lies, 
On the nest is fixed her eyes : 
Now the bird with fiuttering wing 
To her brood sweet food doth bring ; 
No doubt or fear is in her breast. 
Joyous she doth seek her nest ; 
Swift she enters now the tree 
Where her little birdies be. 

See the serpent's look of pride 
When the coming bird she spied! 
How the heart beat in her breast 
When the bird thus sought her nest. 



144 

Noiseless now the serpent see, 

See her head approach the tree ; 

Now it gains the branch's side, 

In the hole it now doth glide : 

The bird's wild screams the air doth fill, 

A moment more and all is still. 

The serpent joyous seized her prey. 
The bird now in her throat doth lay : 
But often joy is turned to pain, 
And we are lost by what we gain. 

Now the serpent's movement see, 
Wild she struggles in the tree ; 
Round the branch she madly coils. 
Hard to free her head she toils, 
Though she writhes in greatest pain 
All her efforts are in vain. 
When she tried her head to free. 
From the hole in that dry tree. 
Then she found the dainty prize 
In her throat increased the size 
Of head and neck to such degree 
She cannot from the danger flee, 
And wild she writhes in agony. 



What were her thoughts? I cannot tell 

But this I know to her befell 

That long she struggled in the tree 

From the hole her head to free ; 

But her struggles were in vain, 

Ev'ry one increased her pain. 

And after every effort tried 

She struggling, strangling, slowly died: 



145 

And there in death she hangs to show 
To us who dwell on earth below 
That e'er we seize a glitVing prize, 
That spreads its charms before our eyes, 
Be sure, if first it gives us joy, 
It will not health and life destroy. 

If you careful look around 
Oft are men and women found 
Struggling hard an end to gain 
Which acquired doth give them pain ; 
And their fate most sad will be, 
Like the serpent in the tree, 
Dying, lost in victory. 



LINES FOR A LADY'S ALBUM. 

May thy bosom, maiden fair. 
Never throb with doubt or sorrow ; 

Never beat with anxious care, 
Never dread to meet the morrow. 

May thy path with flowers be spread. 
Gay as on a dewy morn ; 

May the rose its fragrance shed 
Unattended by its thorn. 

May thy star of life be bright, 
Brightly shine and brightly reign ; 

When it sets in death's dark night 
Rise in Heaven to shine again. 
1833. 
1:] 



U6 
COLD WATER. 

Let poets sweetly, blithely sing 

The joy the sparkling wine-cups bring 

When friends together meet ; 
When music, with her charms divine, 
And product of the generous vine 

Together form the treat : 

But I the cool and silver fountains, 
Bursting from our own Green Mountains 

All bubbling, sparkling bright ; 
Pure as the spiiit at its birth, 
Before the coloring of earth 

Had stained its spotless white. 

I love to quaff thee, pure and clear, 
Than rosy wine to me more dear 

Thy cooling, limpid streams ; 
No widow's sigh or orphan's tear 
Amid thy pearly drops appear 

To dim thy purest beams. 

No fevers mingle in thy flow. 
No fell disease, or scenes of woe, 

Or want or misery ; 
Or friendship changed to deadly strife, 
Or scene of blood or waste of life 

Can trace their source to thee. 

Let others drink the sparkling wine 

And round the bowl their wreaths entwine 

As Bacchus did of yore ; 
But let me drink at each pure spring, 
And I, in humble lays, will sing 

Thy praise forvermore. 



147 

ADVICE TO UNCLE SAMUEL. 

FOUNDED ON UNCLE JERRY'S SPECULATIONS. 

[The following lines were written at the time the purchase of St. 
Domingo was under consideration, and were sent to Hon. Chas. W". 
WiLLARD, M. C. from Vermont, April 1, 1871.] 

It seems the statesmen of the nation 

Are now engaged in speculation ; 

They want all lands now to be sold 

To pay our claims or swap for gold. 

There^s Canada they''d like to get 

To pay the Alabama debt ; 

Take Cuba, if it will be sold, 

And pay for it in yellow gold. 

There's St. Domingo, wars and all, 

Ready into our arms to fall ; 

And it is said the lands that lay 

Just south of CaHfornia 

Some splendid farms would quickly show 

If bought — or stole — from Mexico. 

To these add isles perhaps a score — 

They'd answer for a year or more — 

To Uncle Sam a farm they'd give 

Where he might well contented live: 

But restless soon again he'll try 

And all adjoining lands he'd buy 

If they in market can be sold 

For barter or for ready gold. 

But 'tis not always safe to buy 
All lands that near you chance to lie ; 
But those around you better pay 
Than those that do at distance lay. 



us 

That Uncle Sam may clearly read 

How speculators oft succeed, 

And how reverses often follow 

When they have staked their " bottom dollar'^ 

To "corner" make in land or gold 

And find tJienisclves in market sold — 

To prove that 'tis uncertain, very, 

I'll tell the tale of Uncle Jerry : 

THE TALK OF UNCLE JERRY. 

My Uncle Jerry had a farm, some sixt}' years ago. 
Upon the broad Connecticut whose waters southward flow ; 
It was a large and fertile farm of meadows and of moun- 
tains, 
'Twas watered well with running l)rooks and clear and 

cooling fountains. 
'Twas in Vermont the old farm la)', upon the river side. 
And there \w\ uncle passed his time in all a farmer's pride: 
His meadows were the richest that eye hath ever seen. 
His pastures on the hillsides were always fresh and green. 
His cattle were the fattest that e"er to market went, 
He beef and sheep and turkeys each year to boston sent ; 
His acres bv tlie thousand along the river lay, 
Where Uncle Jerry viewed with pride his corn and grain 

and ha\'. 
Upon the rock) hillsitles his snow)- Hocks are seen, 
His horses and his cattle \Q.it(\ in the valleys green : 
He's more than forty cottages upon his vast domain 
Where dwell the men that cut the hay and gather in the 

grain. 
And tend the Hocks and milk the cows and on my uncle 
wait, 



149 

My uncle was a wealthy man in lands and goods and gold, 
And every year increased his store as I have oft been told ; 
His market was at Boston, he there his produce sent, 
To get the goods he wanted he oft to Boston went. 
His teams were constant running, so large his surplus grew, 
To get his grain to market the way he scarcely knew : 
My uncle grew ambitious, says he, " My farm's too small, 
Of all the land that joins me Fm bound to have it all ; 
Just south, upon the hillside, is neighbor Dobbin's land. 
Though he asks double what it's worth I will not bantering 

stand, 
'Twill make my farm more sightly, make straight a crooked 

line, 
Though it produce but little it must and shall be mine. 
And then upon the mountain that lot of David Fay — 
To him not worth a dollar — it must be mine, I say ; 
'Tis true, at what he asks, 'tis most outrageous dear, 
But I the land am bound to have it lays to mine so near ; 
'Twill cost me time and trouble for that wild lot to care. 
Must pay for constant watching and all the taxes bear : 
For pride alone I want it. Fay knows the reason why. 
And that I know the reason is he asks a price so high. 

*' For buildnig, all m}- timber I've bought of Johnny Snow, 
And he has constant cheated me. the fact full well I know, 
I want more barns and cottages — now lumbers very high, 
No longer of that Johnny Snow his timber I will buy. 
There is a lot of timbered land up north that I am told 
Friend Russ has in the market and ready to be sold ; 
The land Til buy. and build a mill that will be run by 

steam, 
(I cannot build a water-mill, there's no sufficient stream) ; 
Then Johnny Snow, when I have built, may give his mill 

away, 
For I will lumber sell so cheap that his old mill won't pay. 



150 

*' My teams that go to Boston and at the taverns^ stay, 
Though they are constant on the road theyVe cheated ev'ry 

day ; 
To remedy this evil a tavern 1 will buy 
At least in every twenty miles, and tavern-keeping try : 
I'll buy a place in Boston, my depot it shall be, 
And then the profits I will make my friends shall quickly 

see.'' 

My uncle when his mind was made would, without more 

ado, 
If in the power of mortal man, quick put the business 

through : 
The Dobbins farm was quickly bought, the land of David 

Fay, 
And twenty other worthless strips were purchased the same 

day. 
The ready cash he did not have to pay for all the land, 
For many of the pieces he paid by notes of hand ; 
The timber lands of neighbor Russ that were to uncle sold, 
Friend Russ would give no credit, 'twas therefore paid in 

gold. 
The boiler and machinery to build the mill is bought 
And by his teams from Boston unto his farm is brought ; 
The road unto the land of Russ is by his order made, 
And soon a large and costly mill is to the world displayed. 
His farm is much neglected to build the road and mill, 
From lumber golden visions his head did constant fill. 

The lands are bought, the mill is built, his business next to 

try ^ 
At least in every twenty miles a tavern house to buy ; 



1 Sixty years ago they were called taverns— now hotels. 



151 

When he resolved a thing to do he went to work and 

' done ' it, 
Each tavern bought and furnished, and men employed to 

run it. 
It strained his credit pretty hard ten tavern stands to buy, 
And furniture and fixings and other things supply : 
And next and last in Boston my uncle looked around, 
There long he looked and hunted to find the proper 

ground 
On which to build a depot where he his goods could keep. 
And where his teams could stay and where his men could 

sleep. 
Long time he searched the city before he chanced to find 
A place that was exactly according to his mind : 
At last a place he found that completely filled his eye, 
" This, this," he joyous cried, '* I instantly will buy." 
It was owned by a widow with half a dozen brats. 
The owner of a dog and pig and several snarling cats : 
" What is the price, dear madam?" my uncle eager cried ; 
"The land is very cheap, kind sir," the widow quick re- 
plied, 
" I'll deed this land to you, dear sir, upon this very day, 
If you will me and mine support and all our debts will pay ; 
Our debts are very small, you'll find, I tell you what is 

true. 
There is a mortgage on the land that quickly wdll be due, 
The records unto you the amount will truly give. 
And it costs but little here, dear sir, for me and mine ta 

live ; 
So you may take the property and writings with me make, 
And instantly my long loved home for you I will forsake." 

My Uncle Jerry paused to think and ponder on the plan,. 
And then in answer unto her he thus at last beo:an : 



152 

"I'll take this place, dear madam, and all your debts will 

pay, 

And you may in the house remain long as you choose to 

stay ; 
A depot I will build, my dear, close by your humble home, 
And you can feed my servants when they to Boston come, 
And for the land, hereafter, until your dying day. 
For your support and children I will expenses pay." 

The deed is made, the bond is given, the depot proudly 

stands, 
And Uncle Jerry straight returns to his rich meadow 

lands ; 
For he had now accomplished all he that year designed. 
And trusted that from this outlay he should great profit 

find. 



Old Time upon his rapid flight for mortals never stayed, 
And Uncle Jerry thought he'd see what profit he had made. 
'"Tis full two years," my uncle cried, " IVe mills and 

taverns run, 
'Tis time I took a full account of all that I have done ; 
'Tis time I looked the matter o'er, for cash is getting low, 
And why I am so very -short' 1 really wish to know." 
And first upon his many farms account of stock he took, 
And when he saw the footings he soberly did look : 
" Oh where is now the hay and grain, the cattle and the 

sheep 
That I upon my many farms forever used to keep ? 
Ah, well I now remember the men the land did till 
I've sent to keeping tavern or else to tending mill. 
And left upon the farm the boys and men unused to work, 
Whose only object present pay and all that's hard to shirk ; 



153 

My barns that once I used to fill with corn and grain and 

hay, 
From this same cause, I now suspect, all empty are to-day. 

" And where are now my fatted beeves, hogs, turkeys, and 

my sheep 
That I for market every year upon my farm did keep, 
On which I did for cash depend the farm expense to pay? 
I ask and ask, and ask again : my servants, where are 

they? 
Ah, now you do remind me, what 1 forgot before. 
That to my mountain saw mill Tve sent at least a score 
Of beeves and hogs to feed the men. for teams the grain 

and hay, 
And now I trust in profits the mill will well repay. 
And then the numerous taverns that 1 have tried to keep 
Have drained my farms of hay and grain, hens, turkeys, 

and of sheep : 
They've taken all I had to sell and left for market naught, 
My Boston depofs only used for property IVe bought ; 
IVe not a dollar from my farm expense or debts to pay. 
Though loud my creditors do call from morn to night each 

day. 

" Next to my mountain mill Til go, account of dealings 

take, 
J trust the profits will be large that I from lumber make." 
He went and saw his mountain land, the land of Russ he 

bought. 
And long he wandered up and down and for his timber 

sought ; 
The land was on the mountain side, "'twas rocky, rough and 

steep. 
With here and there a stunted tree that foothold tried to 

keep. 



154 

To make the road and keep the teams to mill the logs to 

get, 
Instead of making profit, had run him deep in debt. 

•** My mill," he cried, " confound it I Til sell without delay, 
To lumber on this mountain land the thing will never pay ; 
If 'twant for pride the costly thing Td instant give away — 
I'll never run the cursed thing another single day. 
I've footed up the long accounts, and find the mill books 

show, 
Instead of making profits, I many thousands owe 
For work upon the mountain, for oxen, sleds and chains, 
And of the products of the mill there nothing now remains : 
The land I bought of neighbor Russ, upon the mountain 

side, 
Has swept the money from my purse like sand before the 

tide." 

And next he looked his taverns o'er to see what they had 

made : 
He called for books, he called for bills, he furniture sur- 
veyed — 
^'I want," he cried, "the surplus cash you have on hand 

to-day, 
For I have many little bills Pm called upon to pay.'" 
The tavern bills he figured up, expenses and receipts, 
A large deficit here again my Uncle Jerry meets ; 
He foots and foots, and foots again, to find some error 

tries, 
Though long he looks and ponders no error meets his eyes. 
■" I see it now," my uncle said, " to me 'tis plain as day, 
I never can with profit run a tavern far away ; 
The salaries of agents and servants, plain I see, 
Will swallow up the profits however large they be. 



155 

The houses now all need repairs, want paper, and want 

paint, 
The furniture is all worn out, is every one's complaint ; 
Full well I see I cannot here in cash a dollar get. 
But what to me is worst of all each tavern is in debt. 
rU try,'" at last my uncle said, " my Boston lands to sell, 
I think that purchase which I made must surely turn out 

well." 

He found his Boston depot lands far worse than all the 

rest. 
It was the most unfortunate of all that he possessed ; 
He found it as the widow said, her debts were all quite 

small. 
But they made up in numbers — there were thousands of 

them all. 
With salaries of agents, who there had naught to do, 
The servants and repairs — it would astonish you ; 
But when he saw the bills for the widow and her brats, 
Her parrots and her monkeys, her various dogs and cats. 
My uncle cried " By thunder ! this giving land to me 
Through life to be supported the object now I see I 
Pve spent ten thousand building here a depot large and 

grand. 
And not a dollar have received from buildings or from 

land." 
He sought the widow, deeded back the land without delay, 
And then in full five thousand more by note of hand did 

pay 
To ^et his bond for her support which unto her he gave, 
And from ten thousand little bills his future life to save. 

My uncle quickly now returned unto his farm once more, 
To look his stock and property and all his business o'er. 



156 

To make a list of all his stock and lands he now began, 
To ascertain the sums he owed, to settle with each man. 
My uncle found when this was done, although it galled his 

pride, 
That very much the largest sum was on the debtor side: 
"Confound it!" loud my uncle cried, " Vm bankrupt now 

I see ! 
The depot, taverns, mill and lands have surely ruined me. 
I will not have the sheriff round, in debt I will not live. 
My creditors Fll cause to meet, and unto them will give 
My houses, taverns, mill and lands, my cattle and my 

sheep, 
And from my honest creditors Til not a dollar keep ; 
If they'll discharge me from my debts Fll start the world 

anew, 
And ne"er too widely spread my sails, but keep m\- ballast 

true." 

The trade is closed; he gives up all. and is from debt set 

free. 
Without a dollar in his purse my uncle now you see ; 
He tried on life's tempestuous sea to carry to much sail, 
And like ten thousand others he foundered in the gale. 



Dear Uncle Sam, take warning from Uncle Jerr\-"s fate : 
In meadows, prairies, mountain lands, your farm is very 

great. 
Perhaps you now remember you late a bargain made 
With our good friend, the Russian Czar, and gold by 

millions paid : 
You recollect, dear uncle, the fairy tales they told, 
That the land was very rich in silver and in gold ; 



157 

That coal was lying on the banks all ready to be bought, 
That every bay was filled with fish all wishing to be caught. 
That seals were very plenty each bay and creek within, 
And every one was anxious to let you have his skin ; 
And then such splendid forests of pine and fir and spruce, 
Enough to last for centuries for all the nation's use. 
That the climate was so warm that no winter there was 

found, 
It was in fact a fairy land and almost tropic ground : 
When bought, 'twas like — 'twas like — 'twas like — I say 

'twas very 
Like the mountain timber lands of good old Uncle Jerry. 

The forests have retreated from every creek and bay. 

And worthless, on the mountains, 'tis said that now they 

lay; 
The fish that were so plenty, Hke visions of the night. 
From every shore and creek and ba}- have vanished from 

our sight. 
And oh, those lovely seals that you wanted to possess 
From each report grow fewer and " beautifully less" ; 
It does not pay, nor ever will, to run the costly thing. 
And never to the treasury will it a dollar bring. 
For every dollar that it brings the nation's treasury 
For the army and the navy full ten at least we pay : 
Add marshals and collectors and others stationed there. 
And the purchase of Alaska is very hard to bear : 
You're just like Uncle Jerry, if 'twere not for your pride 
You'd cut loose from Alaska and forever let her slide. 

*Tis said bv some vou have an eve upon some lands that 

lay 
Southwestward of your ample farm, between the main and 

bayi ; 

1 Lower California. 
14 



US 

'Tis said that here the land is good, but still I have no 

doubt 
'Twill cost too much to fence it and keep the smugglers 

out. 
That, like the Dobbins farm, 'twill be upon your purse a 

dram, 
The income from the customs the expenses can't maintain ; 
When with Mexico you think to trade to Alaska turn your 

eyes, 
And, uncle, don't be caught again by such a tinsel prize. 

You long have wanted Cuba, so your friends have often 

told, 
A hundred millions offered, in glittering, yellow gold ; 
Dear uncle, would you take it if given you to-day 
'T would be worse than Jerry's taverns, you could not make 

it pay. 
To Spain 'tis now a curse, 'tis running her in debt, 
The expenses of the army she ne'er expects to get ; 
Suppose to-day you take her a free gift from Old Spain, 
What earthly profit would you from the splendid gift 

obtain? 
You take her, wars and all, and the rebels must subdue, 
How large an army, think you, would it take to keep her 

true? 
If you should take the island you must order there restore^ 
Your army and your navy must constant guard each shore ; 
Her sugar and tobacco in every port would be 
Competing with your farms down south — they would be 

duty free. 
Your treasury would lose the cash that from the duties flow^ 
And where would be the benefit — does anybody know ? 
You'd better first the "Ku-Klux" quell amid your southern 

farms 
Before these wild guerrilla bands you clasp within your arms ; 



159 

Think you the bands there fighting now would with their 

foes agree, 
And 'neath our flag would fraternize and shout for liberty? 
No, no, dear uncle, never buy ; if given, 'twould cost you 

dear. 
You'd better stick close to your farms and keep your titles 

clear. 

■•Tis said that you from Denmark an isle would like to 

buy,^ 
It lays some ways from Cuba, you've got it in your eye ; 
But is it worth a million if in the market sold? 
Oh, uncle, don't you buy it, you'd better keep your gold 
To pay your debts, and stock your farms, and see your 

crops are sown, 
And let the isle of earthquakes and hurricanes alone. 

But there is St. Domingo they say you'd like to get. 
Like Uncle Jerry's widow you've but to pay her debt. 
And through her life support her and all her little brats, 
Her parrots and her monkeys, her dogs, her pigs and cats. 
They say the land is splendid and very rich indeed, 
That all who go to farming will surely there succeed ; 
But for a farming country it singular appears. 
And I should want to see it rain in less than nine long 

years. 2 
I think beneath the tropic sun the rivers would get low. 
And all the mountain streams be dry and grass would cease 

to grow. 
The people all are very poor, from serf to president, 
Its officers have drained the land and all the money spent ; 
Its army and its navy are serving without pay,"^ 
And every one is bankrupt, they tell me, there to-day. 

1 St. Thomas. 

2 The accounts from that island represent tliat in some portions 
of it no rain has fifUen lor nine years at a time. 

3 Accounts represent the army as serving^ without pay. 



160 

They dearly want into your purse to get their greedy hands. 

And pay you off in paupers and wild and thirsty lands ; 

They'd rather be in office and draw from you the gold, 

As marshals and collectors and every office hold, 

Than o'er a pauper nation to govern without pay, 

In fear of revolution on each succeeding day. 

And there is some " unpleasantness" with Cabral and with 

others, 
There's some dispute about the line with their dark Hay- 

tien brothers. 

Perhaps you may remember their bargain with Old Spain,'* 
And uncle, should you buy it, won't they fly from it again? 
You remember it was Cabral who o'er Spain the victory 

won, 
Is not his flag now waving beneath the tropic sun? 
Does not, among the mountains, his little patriot band, 
'Gainst Baez, the usurper, now bold and threatening 

stand?"' 
If you should from the island call all your ships away, 
How long in St. Domingo would Baez dare to stay? 
How many Spanish soldiers upon the island sleep 
Who died in field and hospital while Spain did foothold 

keep ? 

Just think how many noble hearts in southern graves now 

lay, 

Before you drove the Seminoles from swamps of Florida ; 
How many millions did it cost to drive the Indians out, 
Before your vet'ran army their scattered bands did rout? 
To fight with Cabral's warriors in swamps and forests there, 
I think you'll find, dear uncle, a very grave affair. 

4 Spain at one time, at the earnest request of the people of the 
island, annexed it to her territory, but after a short time the people> 
under Cabral, revolted, and after the loss to Spain of many soldiers 
and much treasure the island became again independent. 

5 Cabral is now in arms agaiust Baez, w ho he claims is. a usurp- 
er of power in the island. 



161 

Now uncle, should you trade and purchase the estate, 
You'd better calmly be prepared for Uncle Jerry's fate. 

But if you must enlarge your farm and Johnny Bull will 

give 
The New Dominion, in the north, beneath your flag to 

live, 
'Tis not a land of paupers, but people like your own. 
No heavy drain upon your purse will cause a single groan. 
'Twill save a long division fence upon your northern bound, 
And furnish you with tillage land and splendid pasture 

ground. 
But be not in a hurry from John the land to buy, 
Though it would be convenient, and close to you doth lie ; 
The time is fast approaching when John a deed will give 
For love and for affection beneath your flag to live. 
Now keep your brow unruffled and your mind from all 

alarms. 
And like a bashful, blushing bride she'll fall into your 

arms. 



VERMONT. 

Her hills are green, her fountains clear. 
And rich her sunny vales appear ; 
Her sons are brave, her daughters fair. 
Her rights she guards with jealous care. 



162 



THE ABSENT LOVER. 

[Written at the reque^st of a lady whose lover had been in Cali- 
fornia eight years, and who liad been' expected home from day to day 
for about three years.] 

Long have I watched, and watched in vain, 

For him that's far away, 
And though my heart oft throbs with pain 
1 will not sadly now complain 

But watch from day to day. 



How often at the midnight hour. 
In dreams, are brought to view 

Each scene weVe passed in field or bower, 
^hen sun shone bright or clou 
That I have passed with you. 



When sun shone bright or clouds did lower. 



Fond memory lingers round each spot 

Where we in love have met ; 
Around each stream, each tree, each grot, 
By me they ne'er will be forgot, 

Deep in my heart they're set. 

How dear each token is to me 

That you in love did give ; 
Thy dear name in this book I see, 
I love to sit and think of thee — 

For thee alone I live. 

Then quick return, oh, do not fail, 

I long to meet with thee ; 
And may the Power that rules the gale 
With gentle breezes fill each sail 

That wafts my love to me. 



163 



LINES 

WRITTEN FOR THE CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION OF THE 
BATTLE OF CONCORD, MASSACHUSETTS. 

One hundred years ago to-day 

The British troops with pennons gay, 

Before the sun's first dawning ray. 

Through Lexington did ride ; 
On came the troops to win a name, 
The Yankee farmers' hearts to tame, 
And quench Young Freedom's rising flame 

And curb New England's pride. 

On, on the men to Concord come, 
The fife is still, each voice is dumb. 
No cannons boom, no sound of drum 

Disturbs the midnight air; 
No sound the listening ear doth greet 
Except the tramp of soldiers' feet. 
As o'er each bridge and through each street 

Their banners proud they bear. 

The troops from Boston had come o'er 
To seize the Yankees' gathered store. 
And Concord's field to stain with gore 

And crush the patriots brave ; 
But great their wonder and affright 
When, by the earliest ray of light, 
They found their foes prepared for fight. 

Their dearest rights to save. 

Firm at their post the Yankees stand, 
A fearless, noble, patriot band, 
Ready to die to free the land 



164 

From slavery's galling chain ; 
Ready to guard each freeman's right, 
Ready to mingle in the fight, 
Ready, 'gainst tyranny and might, 

To pour their blood like rain. 

•*' Disperse ! disperse !" the Britons cry, 
•" Disperse, ye rebels, or ye die! 
Disperse, disperse, and quickly fly, 

Or meet a traitor's doom 1 
Throw down your arms, ye traitor host! 
JMo longer proud defiance boast, 
Desert at once your armed post 

Or fill a rebel tomb I" 

•"Fire!" cried the Britons, ''let them die!' 
"Fire!" cried the Yankees in reply. 
And bullets thick as hail did fly 

For then, on c/ery side. 
That British volley waked a flame — 
Before, behind, on flanks, it came — 
The Yankees fought their foes to tame. 

To every shot replied. 

Awhile the soldiers held their ground, 
But fast the Yankees gathered round. 
And with surprise the Britons found 

Their foes in front and rear : 
From every bush and rock and tree 
The gathering Yankees they can see. 
And soon they will surrounded be. 

Their fate they well may fear. 

Hem'd in, shot down from every side^ 
The royal troops in vain replied. 
Though deep in blood the plain is dyed, 



165 

They scarce can see their foe ; 
Though fast the royal soldiers fall, 
Their foes behind each tree and wall 
Are safe from British sword or ball, 

And thus unharmed can go. 

Before the Yankee fire they sway, 
And soon their solid ranks give way, 
They to their foemen yield the day 

And seek their ships once more ;^ 
In wild disorder they appear, 
The Yankees on their flanks and rear 
In constant gathering clouds appear. 

And stain the fields with gore. 

The wild retreat changed to a race,. 
The Yankees followed up the chase, 
And constant from each hiding place 

Shot down their hated foes ; 
They followed up this running fight, 
They'd load and fire — then out of sight. 
Then on the rear, or left, or right. 

Around the troops they'd close. 

But few to Boston e'er had got. 

So hot the chase, so sure each shot, 

And prisoners soon had been their lot 

In that exciting chase. 
But men the Britons sent to meet 
The royal troops in wild retreat 
And cover up their sad defeat. 

And save them from disgrace.. 

This fight a lesson to them gave. 

That Yankee souls were true and brave^ 

Thev'd rather fill a rebel irrave 



166 

Than yield a single right : 
Though born to peace, the earth to till, 
To tend the shop, the store, the mill. 
To guard each right with might and will 

On battle field theyM fight. 

An hundred years have pass'd away 
Since here our fathers held at bay 
The royal troops in deadly fray, 

And triumphed on the plain; 
They mourned for every fallen brave 
Who died his dearest rights to save, 
Who fills an honored soldier's grave. 

In that fierce battle slain. 

To-day we've met to honor show 
To those who bravely met the foe 
In fight one hundred years ago 

To guard their rights and laws ; 
They here for freedom fought and bled, 
And here the loved and honored dead 
Now fill a soldier's gory bed — 

They fell in freedom's cause. 

Here in this ground these patriots sleep, 
The nation green their graves shall keep. 
And o'er each mound shall patriots weep, 

While Freedom holds her sway ; 
In future years, while free we dwell. 
The sire shall to his children tell 
The deeds of those who fought and tell 

On that most glorious day. 



16T 



THE. GJ^EN MOUNTAIN BOYS.. 

[" The Green iMountain Boys [on the Potomac] have thus far led 
the van, and Ave have no doubt that when the tug of war conies the 
confidence of the government in them will be fully justified. * * * * 

"The descendants of Ethan Aden and his brave followers are 
not llie men to flinch ;it the sight of the i'oe."— Boston Journttl, 1861. \ 

Vermont in the van I Aye, there let her be, 
Vermont was forever the land of the free — 
" The land of the free and the home of the brave," 
Unstained by the tread of the tyrant or slave. 

" Ho! give us thi van!"' the Vermonters all cry,. 
*' Our flag is unfurled, we will conquer or die ; 
The Stars and the Stripes which to battle we bear 
Shall serve for our shroud or float proudly in air. 

" Vermont led the van at the capture of ' Ti,' 
When Allen's brave boys raised their banner on high ;: 
Vermont led the van when on Bennington's plain 
The minions of tyrants were captured or slain. 

*' Vermont led the van when Prevost in his pride 
The green fields of Plattsburgh in crimson deep dyed ; 
Vermont led the van at Chapul tepee's height, 
Where the blood of her Ransom flowed free in the fight.. 

" Then give us the van! we claim it in battle, 
Our eagles shall fly where the (Gannons loud rattle ; 
The fame we have won still brighter shall glow 
Wherever in battle we meet with the foe.'' 

Vermont in the van ! Aye, there let her be, 
Vermont was forever the home of the free — 
"The land of the free and the home of the brave,.'* 
Unstained by the tread of the tyrant or slav.e^ 



168 



ADDRESS TO JEFFERSON DAVIS: 

LATE PRESIDENT OF THE SO CALLED CONFEDERATE STATES, 
WHEN DRESSED IN HIS WIFE's PETTICOATS. 

Jeff. Davis, thou hast fallen from thy proud and lofty 

station, 
Thou lately wast the President of all the southern nation ; 
And then five hundred thousand men obeyed thy slightest 

nod, 
And ladies' hands have strewn with flowers the path that 

thou hast trod. 
No Turkish Sultan ever ruled with more despotic sway 
Than you did lord o'er the south before you ran away ; 
No eastern tyrant ever yet upon this earth drew breath 
Who filled, like you, so many graves with people starved to 

death. 

But now thy nation is subdued, and all thy power is gone, 
And you have sunk to depths so low you've won a nation's 

scorn : 
Who would have thought from such a height that you could 

sink so low 
As to put on a woman's dress to hide you from your foe? 
Is the last ditch you've talked about — the ditch of fell 

despair — 
Composed of women's hoops and stays, and calico they 

wear? 
YouVe talked about the last great ditch that should be 

fam'd in story. 
Where, if defeated, you would die amid a blaze of glory : 
That you would gather round you your cavaliers so brave, 
And in one gallant, glorious charge seek victory or the 

grave. 



169 

But here you are, Jeff. Davis, skedadling from your foes. 

Just like a cowardly poltroon, dressed up in woman's 
clothes. 

How did you feel, Jeff. Davis, while running for your life, 

Dressed up in hoops and crinoline you'd borrowed from 
your wife ? 

What did you think your friends would say when they should 
read the news, 

Or did you think the comic scene the Yankees would 
amuse ? 

How did \ou think the scene would look to men across the 
sea, 

When they should know one petticoat held your con- 
federacy ? 

You, like a blazing rocket, ascended very quick, 

But mid the gloom and darkness descended like the stick. 

Thy light hast all gone out, Jeff. D., that once illumined 

the world, 
And from th}- power and glory, like Satan, thou art hurled. 
But thou hast learned a trick, Jeff. D., that Satan never 

knew : 
He never thought in petticoats to shield himself from view. 
But Satan often is l^etrayed by his large cloven foot, 
And you, Jeff. D., "neath petticoats, displayed too large a 

boot. 

Ah, wh}-, Jeff. D., did you disgrace your proud and lofty 

station. 
And bring contempt on all }our friends in your late southern 

nation ? 
You ought, when round you closed the foe, ha\'e fearless 

met the fight. 
And like the lurid tropic sun in glory sunk in night : 
1.") 



170 

Or, like the Roman warriors when they had lost the day. 
You should have fallen on your sword and passed from earth 
away. 

But you, alas! poor craven soul, for a short lease of life, 
Did hide thy hateful traitor form in garments of thy wife : 
And though you've caused a million lives to pass from earth 

away, 
You did disgrace yourself and friends to live a single day. 
You'd rather, high in petticoats, upon the gallows swing 
Than die mid battle's roar and din where bugles loud did 

ring: 
Upon the gibbet you should die, beneath our flag unfurled, 
Thy memory shall on history's page be cursed by all the 

world. 

May, 1865. 



POLITICAL. 

[The following letters were the first two of a series of political 
pieces intended to be written for the presidential campaign of 1872,, 
but the prospect of Greeley's election soon became so small that the 
project was abandoned after writing the two following.] 

{ Confidential) 

LETTER FROM SIMEON SLY TO HORACE GREELEY. 

Washington, Sept. 1872. 

Dear Greeley : Your friends the land have surveyed^ 
Their plans for the coming campaign they have laid, 
This point we h^^ve settled — in this all agree — 
Next March in the White House your honor shall be ; 
But the means and the process this end to obtain 
To all of your friends at first was not plain. 



171 

But few politicians two horses can ride, 

'Tis safer by far one good steed to bestride, 

But you are now trying at least half a score, 

And soon will be anxiously hunting for more. 

There's the Liberal Republican mare by your side, 

And the old horse, Democracy, easy to ride 

If your garner is filled with hay, oats and wheat — 

For a horse of that species loves dearly to eat. 

There's the horse that was used by Jeff. Davis and Bragg, 

And another well known as the Copperhead nag ; 

Then there is the horse called Protection, so strong, 

And the young steed Free Trade, gaily prancing along. 

And the steed of the German, Free Beer and no prayer. 

And the steed they call Temperance, slow pacing there. 

And then those wild steeds, so uncertain and frisky, 

Well known through the land as Rum, Brandy; and 

Whiskey ; 
With Free Love and Religion, all " isms'* combined. 
At once to ride all is a task, you will find. 
To ride all these steeds the boldest might daunt, 
But I think you have done it, and now will beat Grant. 

No rider in circus has ever done more 

Than you are now doing in riding a score : 

But you muse be cautious and not pla\ the clown, 

Or mid all the horses you'll soon tumble down : 

Your mouth must keep shut and your pen must keep still. 

Or the plans we have laid you will instantly kill ; 

If you talk of protection free traders will leave. 

If you talk of free trade 'twill protectionists grieve ; 

Don't abuse the Ku-Klux when southward you write— 

YouH need their regalia the negroes to fright ; 

If left to themselves to rule them we can't. 

Disband the Ku-Klux and thev'll all vote for Grant. 



172 

So, Greeley, my dear, while in circus you play 
Attend to your business, have nothing to say ; 
For, say what you will, if it makes any glad. 
You'll find from that saying some other is mad. 

The next thing agreed is to brag and to blow. 

And cry " All the people for Greeley will go,"'' 

And constant keep crying, day in and day out. 

And brag and keep bragging, without if or doubt. 

You know through the nation that thousands take pride 

To vote with the strongest, the conquering side ; 

Let the papers all blow, and each copy the others, 

Let Liberals and Democrats all act as brothers. 

In aid of our project the order we gave 

All papers should cry out " A great tidal wave " 

Now proudly is sweeping o'er prairie and plain. 

It sweeps all before it fiom Utah to Maine ; 

That for (jreeley the imiverse now is in motion, 

And all are for Greeley from ocean to ocean. 

Let the papers proclaim all new converts " there be,^' 
All colonels and generals, men 1-ygh in degree ; 
• Don't stand for the names you publish so proud, 
Gather names from the tombstones of those in their shroud. 
In distant states give each Republican name 
Who for many long years has been well known to fame ; 
Say for Greeley they've gone (though you know 'tis a lie), 
A cheering report swift as lightning will fly ; 
And if 'tis denied the report few will see. 
In the papers that spread it no correction there'll be ; 
At the sound of each name, whether dead or alive, 
The shouting for Greeley will surely revive. 

To all those Republicans wishing for place 
We cry " You the Liberals all must embrace, 



173 

Be first in the ranks and unceasingly toil 
And we will reward you with office and spoil." 
They'll come in by thousands, leave Grant in the rear. 
And for Greeley and Brown give cheer after cheer ; 
We're sure of the soreheads and all the rejected. 
All who from Republicans office expected ; 
We've promised them all, if you win the day, 
That with office and honor their deeds we'll repay. 

There is one other thing in w^iich we're agreed. 

That in this campaign if we wish to succeed. 

As we came from all parties our views are unchanged, 

After due consultation we thus have arranged — 

To leave politics out of the present campaign 

And the acts of Republicans all to arraign. 

The facts to agree on we've tried and we can't. 

Except we've resolved that you shall beat Grant : 

We've agreed that Free Trade and Protection we"il shun 

And leave to the people what is to be done ; 

Constitution amendments we'll leave out of sight 

Or Liberals and Rebels will be in a fright : 

Free Love and Polygamy silent must be 

Or Tilton and Brigham Young ne'er will agree ; 

But tbe loaves and the fishes to us that must fall. 

In this we're agreed, they'll be welcome to all. 

Our plan must be therefore to rave and to rant 
And pour all our venom and slander on Grant ; 
Call him tyrant, oppressor, and every vile name. 
Spread lies through the nation to injure his fame : 
Say our dear southern friends he with bayonets rules, 
Say all men in office are tyranny's tools ; 
To our friends the Ku-Klux, who for thee loudly cheer, 
We will say that the tyrant Grant keeps them in fear. 



174 

In short we've agreed and fixed on the fact 

To hold up to scorn each Republican act : 

(But Greeley, dear friend, in old Tribunes I see 

With each act of Grant you once did agree ; 

Nay, more, for those measures with him you did plead 

And after long praying at last did succeed.) 

But no matter for that, the blame he must bear, 

And all who support him opprobrium must share. 

The Liberal and Baltimore Platforms we made, 

With bells and with cannons the same were displayed. 

That all might know the true ground where we stood. 

That we acted in honor as all parties should. 

But I tell you, sub rosa, if e'er we succeed 

'Twill be only by following the course thus agreed ; 

Say naught about platforms, for Greeley loud cry, 

And vilify Grant and his party belie. 

This, this is our creed, 'tis simple and plain, 

'Tis on this point alone that we run the campaign. 

Next week, clearest Greeley, the work I shall do, 

To traverse the land to make .converts for you ; 

Our programme I'll follow, and constantly write 

And post you up well the result of the nght ; 

Soon I'll write you again, for the present good bye, 

Ever yours, my dear Greeley, from 

Simeon Sly. 



{Confidential) 

LETTER FRO]\r SIMEOX SLY TO HORACE GREELEY. 

Charleston, S. C, Sept. 1872. 

Dear Greeley : I came to this place here to-day 
Our plans for the battle that's coming to lay ; 



175 

I gathered the planters from far and from near, 

(Those chivah'ous sons to glory so dear, 

Who fought with such valor gainst Stripes and the Stars 

'Neath the banner of glory, the Stars and the Bars), 

At my bidding they come from the valleys and mountains. 

Where flowed the broad river or sparkled the fountains, 

They gathered by hundreds at Liberty's call. 

And closely was packed that old spacious hall.— 

'Twas the hall where secession first reared its proud head. 

That filled all the land with doubt and with dread 

Till Grant, the great tyrant, with his hireling band, 

Spread wide desolation through all this fair land. — 

1 gazed with amazement on these noble men, 

1 thought what a nation the South might have been 

liut for Lincoln and Grant and Republican knaves 

Whose trail was destruction, desolation and graves. 

I mounted the rostrum, my speech I began, 

1 told them for president you was the man : 

I but mentioned your name when there came such a yell 

As one would imagine might burst forth from Hell 

From the mouths of the lost, the d d and forlorn 

If the flames were increased or the rack tighter drawn. 
Then followed the hisses, the groans, and the cry 
"Throw the cuss from the wmdow ! the scoundrel must 

die ! • 

What ! vote for old Greeley and his abolition? 
Yes, yes, we will vote all his ilk to perdition I 
Twas his cursed paper the trouble has made, 
By him our loved homes now in ashes are laid ! 
Our sons in the morning of life now are dead, 
And our power and our glory forever has fled !'' 

" O hear me, for God's sake!'' I instantly cried, 
" No man Hke H. Greeley was ever belied :" 



176 

I took out the Tribu7ie and quickly begun 

To read them your sayings about '6i, 

That you spoke the pure thought of a great, noble heart 

When you said to the South you in peace may depart. 

Of Niagara think, when the war waxed so warm, 

How bravely you breasted your party's tierce storm ; 

When you went, all alone, for the dear southern sake, 

To close up the war and a treaty to make. 

That the cry " On to Richmond, to glory and prey," 

Was written when you were long sick and away ; 

That you for the slave was now ready to pay, 

That you thought it but justice and longed for the day ; 

That you, if elected, I boldly them told, 

Would see their slaves paid for in bright, shining gold. 

I read them the platform the Liberals had made, 

I read them the Tribune the platform to aid ; 

I read them your letter accepting the station 

Conferred upon you by the joint nomination. 

The words of the Tribune at last changed their tones, 

Their curses all ceased, likewise hisses and groans ; 

They heard me with patience, 1 told them most true 

All the hopes of the South were now centered in you. 

I told them the pledges you southward had sent 

Should you chance in the White House to be president ; 

That office and honors 'mongst all you'd divide 

Who in battle for office should stand by your side : 

That the brave southern heroes whom Grant had struck 

down 
Once more should enjoy their former renown ; 
That the negro once more should bow down to their sway, 
That the white man should rule as in years passed away ; 
That Congress no longer shall guard the late slave. 
No longer from Ku-Klux the negro could save ; 



177 

That laws for the negro shall be of the past, 
If you are elected he's voted his last. 

How changed was the scene ere I finished my story, 

Your late deadly foes were soon shouting your glory ; 

Their hate late so bitter to love was now turned, 

To clasp your dear form to their bosoms they yearned. 

But at last when I told them you honored their brave 

And mourned their dear sons that now sleep in the grave. 

That you were now ready good pensions to give 

Those maimed in the battle, to aid them to live. 

With pensions to widows of those that are dead 

And to care for the orphans of those that had bled ; 

That your love for the South you was ready to show 

By paying for all things destroyed by the foe, 

'Twould have done your heart good to have heard the wild 

cheers 
That for many long minutes loud rung in mine ears. 

The\' pressed all around me with tears in their eyes, 
" Thank God, we are saved !'* every planter loud cries; 
"If Greeley should win, to us it looks plain. 
What we lost by the war we should instantly gain : 
If left to ourselves, by your platform the State 
Can make its own laws, and decide on the fate 
And from ignorant negroes the vote take away. 
And (rreeley and Congress have nothing to say.'' 

But as for the negro, I tell you what's true. 

Not a single black rascal will e'er vote for you ; 

To show that you love them we've tried, but we can't. 

Every darkey I've found will vote squarely for Grant : 

The negro don't reason, his instinct is true. 

They'll vote straight for Grant if the whites vote for you. 



178 

Now, Greeley, my friend, in this State you will see 
AH the planters and whites with you will agree : 
But say naught at the North of the pledges we make, 
We oft must make pledges for victory's sake, 
Should Republicans print it, just say 'tis a lie — 
Yours truly, as ever, from 

Simeon Sly. 



THE LION AND THE LAMB: OR, THE LIBERAL 
REPUBLICANS AND DEMOCRATS, 

[Written S 'ptember, 1872, for the political campaign in which 
tlie Hon. Horace Greeley was nominated for president by the Lib- 
vcrals and Democrats.] 



In ancient days the time has been 
That beasts could talk as well as men, 
(See fate of Eve, and ass of Balaam), 
A faculty which now doth fail 'em. 



In Scripture known as Galilee, 
A Lion laid him down to sleep 
Close by a walk where passed the sheep 
While thus he lay, a little Lamb, 
Running in play beside her dam. 
While sporting there the Lion spied 
And, spite of dam, rushed to his side. 
The Lamb at once the silence broke. 
And to the Lion trusting spoke : 
" Dear Mr. Lion, glad to meet you. 
It gives me pleasure thus to greet you, 



179 

For powers divine have made decree 
Your race and mine henceforth agree ; 
And this decree Tm sure you'll keep, 
And Lambs shall with the Lions sleep ; 
That we henceforth in friendship meet 
And dwell for aye in converse sweet : 
" Yes, yes," the Lion spoke aside, 
"The Lion out — the Lamb inside I 
It gives me pleasure thus to see 
The Lion and the Lamb agree, 
To meet }'ou here most glad I am, 
I dearly love you, little Lamb ! 
If we together thus lay down 
No one will miss you in the town, 
"Your dam may mourn \ou for a day. 
None else will know you've gone astray 
From such as )ou 1 strength shall gain 
To roam in terror wood and plain ; 
My gain is great, yom- loss is small, 
Let no false fears your heart appall ; 
Come, darling, nestle by my side, 
And I henceforth will be thy guide." 
The Lion's paws the Lamb embraced. 
And soon inside the Lamb was placed : 
The Lion thus his promise kept, 
And, satisfied, now sweetly slept. 



From this ye Liberals all should learn 
The coming future to discern. 
If you should wish in this warm weather 
With Democrats to sleep together. 
They'd be the kite that proud would fly, 
You butthe tail dragged through the sky 



180 

Lay not the unction to your soul 

That you the party can control. 

See yon proud ship with sails all spread, . 

See on her bow a figure-head 

So skilful carved, with gold overlaid, 

The form of some young beauteous maid. 

Silent and powerless it doth stand. 

And moves where'er the pilot's hand 

Points out the way for it to go, 

Forced on by all the winds that blow. 

Or better yet : — yon steamer see, 

^Gainst wind and wave forced out to sea ; 

Think you the figure-head can guide 

The boat upon the raging tide ? 

^Tis steam that makes the boat swift go. 

The pilot doth the pathway show. 

If on the Ship of State you place 

As figure-head your Greeley's face, 

And then to force it down Time's stream. 

Use Democratic wind and steam, 

Will not the wind so furious blow 

That you must seek the hold below? 

Or, Jonah-like, will you not be, 

To calm the storm, cast in the sea 

Where whales by you cannot be found 

To spew your bodies on dry ground? 

Lions fed on lambs strength gain 
To rule with terror wood and plain ; 
If you, Republicans, divide 
And raise to power the other side. 
Upon their Ship of State they'll place. 
As figure-head, your Greeley's face ; 
But when the vessel puts to sea 
The officers and crew must be 



X- 



181 

'Selected from the rebel band 
And Democrats in northern land. 
Tis they who must the vessel guide. 
And steer it o'er the raging tide — 
For Democrats (the story goes) 
Have got a '* hook in Greeley's nose." ^ 

Should Greeley win, what can you do? 
Three million Democrats in view, 
Gaunt, raving at tlie long delay, 
You cannot hope to bar their way ; 
When they the spoils of victory spy 
You cannot stop them if you try : — 
They'll be the Lion in his p?'ide. 
And you the Lamb in his inside I 



BUNKER HILL. 

[Written June 17, 1857, the day of the celebration of the Battle of 
Bunker Hill and the erection of the statue of Gen. Joseph Warren.] 

Here, beneath this battle-plain, 
Rests the bones of heroes slain, 
Who at Freedom's sacred shrine 
Poured their life-blood free as wine, 
Battling for their country's right 
In the fierce and desperate fight ; 
Standing firmly, side by side. 
Bravely fought and nobly died. 

Let the anthem solemn swell — 
Putnam fought and Warren fell 



1 This was newspaper report. 
16 



182 

On this spot of sacred ground. 
Mid the cannons' thundering sound : 
Here each patriot gave his life 
For his country, home and wife ; 
On this spot, the land to free. 
They bled and died for Liberty. 

Wake the anthem for the dead 
Resting in their humble bed ; 
We this day, this happy hour, 
Raise the statue, near the tower, 
O'er the grave of Warren slain 
On this bloody battle-plain 
Where they met in deadly strife, 
To his country gave each life. 

Thousands here have met to-day 
Honor to the dead to pay — 
Honor to the brave who died 
Here, upon this famed hill-side ; 
Mid the swelling notes of praise 
We the marble statue raise 
Which to ev'ry age shall tell 
Where these patriots fought and fell. 

Raise your banner, let it float. 
Music add her richest note. 
Eloquence its grandeur shed 
O'er the graves of heroes dead ; 
Let the anthem solemn rise 
To the God who fills the skies 
Who inspired the brave and free 
To win for us our Liberty. 



183 



THE MAIDEN'S DREAM. 



[December 31, 1835, a maideiilady of oyer thirty summers request- 
ed the author, at the tea-table, to Avrite her something for a New- 
Year's present. I'he following lines were Avritten that evening and 
handed her early the next morning in compliance with her request.] 



'Twas night. Her veil had darkness spread 

O'er lowly glen and mountain head ; 

No lovely moon was driving high 

Her chariot through an azure sky ; 

No constellation glimmering bright, 

In gorgeous splendor, decked the night ; 

Not e'en a star was shining gay 

To lend to earth one cheering ray : 

But all without was gloom and dread, 

Dark clouds had capt each mountain's head ; 

The wind was sweeping in its pride 

Along each plain and mountain side ; 

The hail and rain and driving sleet 

Against the casement furious beat ; 

The friendless wanderer sought in fright 

A shelter from the stormy night. 

The tenants of the field and air — 

These sought their eyrie, those their lair ; 

And.all of life, that night of dread, 

Had to their homes or shelter fled. 



'Twas ten : and since the close of day 
The hours alone I'd passed away, 
For in my breast was strife and care 
That with the night might well compare. 



184 

Yes, well compare — for when the breast 
By passion wild is robbed of rest, 
When envy, pride and fear hold strife 
And jealousy, the bane of life. 
When hope is lost, and fell despair 
With haggard looks the soul to scare, 
And anger fierce and rage and hate 
Wake in the heart a wild debate, 
The storm without then sinks to rest 
Compared with that within the breast. 



III. 



That day had been a day to me 
Such as I never wish to see. 
For I the hours had passed away 
With gallant youths and maidens gay — 
With gallant youths, whose hearts were light, 
And maids whose beauty pleased the sight — 
Though youth and beauty round me shone. 
Amid that throng I seemed alone : 
Yes, seemed alone, for not an eye 
Was bent on me in ecstacy. 
Or ever sought the stolen glance 
That makes the maiden's heart light dance,, 
Which unto him our true love speaks 
In downcast eye and blushing cheeks ; 
Nor was it then my lot to hear 
The tale of love breathed in my ear -^ 
For none for me then breathed a sigh 
But from my presence seemed to fly 
And turned to fairer maids each eye.. 



185 

w. 

1 left the scene so bright and gay, 
And to my chamber turned away, 
And there the strife within my breast 
In silence thought to lull to rest. 
•"Alas !'' thought J, "what can it be — 
Why do the youths thus fly from me ? 
Why do those maids deserve their care? 
Is it because they're young and fair?" 



Fair maid, if ever in your heart 
You felt the pang of envy's dart, 
My situation you may know : 
I walked my chamber to and fro, 
But nothing could relieve my care ; 
J threw myself upon a chair, 
My taper's light was burning dim. 
My aching head began to swim. 
.Soon wearied nature sank to rest, 
The drowsy god my heart opprest ; 
J lost the sense of all my woes, 
And deep in sleep my eyelids close. 



Oh, such a sight as then-I saw — 
A sight surpassing Nature's law ! 
For never did the sordid earth 
To such a scene as this give birth ; 
And not a pageant of such dyes 
Was ever seen by mortal eyes : 
J thought 'twas in some lovely glen, 
Far from the busy haunts of men, 



186 

I sat me on a fallen oak 

Where near my feet the sea-waves broke 

Where all around was dark and drear 

And not a sound burst on the ear — 

Unless it was the owlef s cry, 

As o''er my head he seemed to fly — 

And I, methought, in fell despair, 

Was broodino- on mv misery there. 



VII. 



What means that gay and brilliant light 
That bursts upon my raptured sight? 
Far off upon the wave it dances, 
Nearer and nearer it advances. 
It comes, it comes ! what can it be? 
Was ever ship so gay at sea? 
Around its prow, in its advance, 
The mimic fires of ocean dance ; 
Impelled along a sea of green 
By flowing sails of silken sheen. 
Its hull appeared of beaten gold. 
And on its taper masts behold 
Its banner fluttering high above. 
And on it mark — a type of love — 
Two turtle doves are billing, cooing, 
As lover when a maid he"'s wooing ; 
And lo ! its colors meet the eyes 
In all the rainbow's varied dyes : 
And hark ! from far I seem to hear 
Sweet strains of music reach my ear. 
And as the ship doth nearer gain 
Louder and louder sounds the strain, 
Until it seemed a concert gay. 
And soon I caught the pleasing lay : 



187 

SONG. 

Maiden, why is this despair? 
Why thy bosom rent with care? 
Many days are yet for thee, 
Happy, happy will they be. 

Thirty years have passed away 
Since ye saw your natal day ; 
But the soon returning spring 
Will to your arms a husband bring. 

Cheer thee, lonely maiden, cheer. 
Wait but for the coming year ; 
Then to be a happy bride. 
Seated by thy husband's side. 

The music ceased, the pleasing strain 
The woods and glens gave back again,. 
Until upon the mountain side 
Faint, and more faint, the echoes died. 

VIII. 

As near the shore the vessel drew 
You well might mark the lovely crew 
Commanded by a Fairy Queen — 
The lovely maid was scarce sixteen. 
Not Persia's maids of matchless grace. 
Or Georgia's, or Circassia's race. 
Could with the lovely crew compare : 
Each maiden's long and silken hair 
Was in the breeze allowed to flow 
O'er neck and breast of mountain snow„ 



188 

Or o'er her brow neglected strayed — 

Not shorn like a Green Mountain maid,^ 

Who like the fool has cast aside 

Her glory, ornament, and pride — 

Their praises every lyre hath rung 

And not a bard has left unsung. 

And mid their locks that careless strayed 

Full many a rosy wreath was laid : 

But 'tis a needless waste of time 

For me to tell in humble rhyme 

That there were eyes of heavenly blue. 

Of glistening black, and hazel hue ; 

Or that around each slender waist 

A baldrick gay was tightly laced ; 

Or that the dress each maiden wore 

Was silk, with jewels covered o'er ; 

Or e'en that on each brow was set 

A gay and glittering coronet, 

Where emeralds' orlow and diamonds' blaze 



The fairy bark has gained the shore, 
And quiet lay each glistening oar ; 
All silent stood the lovely band, 
- Their queen approached and took my hand, 
And on my brow a kiss impressed. 
Then unto me this speech addressed : 
" Dearest girl, full well I know 
The source from which your sorrows flow ; 
Thy grief has called my fairy band 
To wander to this distant land 

1 At the time this was written it was fashionable in Vermont for 
ladies to cut off their own hair and we ir false hair, or have their hair 
curled in the neck. 



189 

To give thee words of hope and cheer^ 
And from thy breast remove each fear -^ 
Then take, O take this magic glass 
And view the shadows as they pass." 
Then, as she spoke, a mirror bright 
She placed before my raptured sight 
In which I gazed : there seemed to fly 
Full many a sight before my eye. 
In veil of mist at first they go, 
Then brighter, brighter fast they grow.^ 
Until my image fair I see : 
A youth before it bent the knee 
And for my favor seemed to sue — 
The charming youth full well I knew. 
The sight no longer could I stand, 
I reached to him my willing hand ; 
So eagerly my hand I threw, 
Both maid and vessel left my view : 
The eftbrt did the vision break, 
I found myself alone, awake. 
The thoughts that pained me through the day- 
Had from my bosom passed away, 
And nature did in concord keep. 
The evening storm was lulled to sleep ; 
The lovely moon was shining bright 
And proud displayed her borrowed light,. 
And every star sent forth its ray 
To cheer the wanderer on his way. 



And now my heart, so late oppressed, 
Was bounding lightly in my breast ;: 
And I with joy, as late with woe, 
Now walked my chamber to and fro. 



190 

But soon the drowsy god again 

Around me firmly bound his chain ; 

Again the visions of the night 

In splendor burst upon my sight. 

Not as before by ocean's tide — 

With powerful wings through air I glide, 

I gaily passed I thought, at will, 

O'er prairie wideband lofty hill ; 

I passed methought o'er tower and town, 

Till at a castle's gate came down. 

XI. 

The castle's towers before me stand. 
They looked as though no builder's hand 
Had reared their proud and lofty walls 
■Or decked their grand and spacious halls : 
A moment paused the walls to view, 
Then passed the open portal through. 
I found myself in halls of state. 
With maids upon my steps to wait ; 
And as I passed the merry throng 
Thus rose the burden of a sons: : 



SONG. 

Welcome, maiden, to this land. 
We to serve you ready stand ; 
Welcome, lady, to these towers, 
You to please the task is ours. 

Maiden, here are lovers gay. 
Beaux to pass the hours away ; 
Then prepare you for the trial, 
-Lovers here take no denial. 



191 

Here are gayest pleasures born, 
Here's the rose without the thorn,. 
Here is bUss without alloy — 
Haste, O hasten to enjoy. 



The music ceased, I thought with pride- 

A laughing youth approached my side 

And thus in blandest accents said : 

" Oh, pardon me, my dearest maid, 

I cannot, love, be rude to thee. 

Then take my arm and go with me." 

I took his arm his steps to wait 

Through galleries gay and halls of state,, 

Until we reached a fair arcade 

Where art had all her charms displayed. 

Of burnished gold appeared the floor. 

The walls with diamonds spangled o'er. 

And every gem of glittering ray 

Did here their varied charms display, 

And not a flower of blushing sprmg. 

Or one which pleasing odors fling, 

Or one whose charms a bard e'er sung, 

But here in gay festoons were hung. 

I, mid this scene so fair and bright. 

Mid all that gives the eye delight, 

Upon a sofa took my seat ; 

My lover kneeled him at my feet 

And begged, in strains the soul to wake,. 

That I would pity on him take 

And asked me to become his bride — 

" I will ! I will !" I quick replied : 

So loud, so eagerly, I spoke. 

The vision fled and I awoke. 



192 

XII. 

Fm now, dear friend, without a fear, 
My hopes are in the coming year — 
The coming year of '36 — 
When fate my state will happy fix ; 
When I no more shall sad complain, 
But shall a loving husband gain. 
And through the rest of this short life 
Shall be a happy, loving wife. 



TRUE LOVE. 

I loved her when I saw her stand 

Within her father's hall, 
And when the noblest in the land 

Obeyed her slightest call. 

I loved her when the giddy crowd 
All worshipped at her shrine. 

But dared not breathe my love aloud 
Or hope to call her mine. 

In childhood we together played, 
Together sought for fiowers, 

A fairy wreath for her to braid — 
How pleasant passed the hours. 

But years rolled on, and from her side 

It was my fate to part ; 
I loved her with a youthful pride, 

I gave her my young heart. 



193 



how changed the scene 
Since we together played ; 
My little laughing fairy queen 
Was now a lovely maid. 

She stood within her father''s halU 

The heir to all his land ; 
With servants ready at her call 

And gold at her command. 

Her father was a merchant bold, 
Whose ships sought every shore,. 

From every nation gathered gold 
To swell his ample store. 

Now she was young and rich and fair. 

The noblest in the land ; 
All sought to free her heart from care 

And win her lovely hand. 

I passed amid that noble crowd, 
Where all was mirth and joy, 

The song so sweet, the laugh so loud — 
None knew the orphan boy. 

At last we met ; she blushed and smiled, 
And talked of years gone by ; 

She seemed again the gentle child — 
A tear was in her eye. 

Her father drove me from his door 
With angry word and blow ; 

He called me beggar's brat and poor. 
And from his house to go. 



194 

She did not speak, but from her eye 

I saw the tears fall fast ; 
We parted 'neath the evening sky 

When from her house I passed. 

I sought afar the land of gold, 

I sought Golconda's mine ; 
I vowed my coffers soon should hold 

The gold and gems that shine. 

Soon fortune did my coffers fill, 
The golden stream flowed fast ; 

I worked and toiled with might and wil 
My task was done at last. 



Again I sought my native shore 
With wealth at my command ; 
For I could boast my glit'ring ore 
■ And with the rich could stand. 

We met again : the change how great, 

I left them rich and gay : 
Her father's wealth and large estate 

Alas! had passed away. 

His ships the winds had made their prey 
His stores had sunk in flame : 

The banks had failed, he could not pay, 
And ruined was his name. 

His daughter from his house must part 

And seek a humble cot ; 
No grief or woe oppressed her heart, 

She blessed her humble lot. 



195 

And when her father's fortune failed 

Her lovers fled away, 
And none for her then sighed or wailed, 

Or for her hand did pray. 

She saw her faithless swains depart 

Without a tear or sigh ; 
Their love had never touched her heart 

O'er dimmed her beaming eye. 

We met : I told my tale of love, 

She answered with a smile — 
" To you, dear friend, I'll constant prove, 

I loved you all the while." 

She's mine, and in our humble cot 

How pleasant is my life ; 
She blesses now our happy lot. 

My beauteous, loving wife. 



THE SERPENT AND THE EAGLE: A FABLE. 

WRITTEN DURING THK POLITICAL CAMPAIGN OF 1 876. 

Once on a time, 'twas Nature's plan, 
All creatures talked as well as man ; 
The same the language used by all. 
By beast and bird both great and small. 
The fields and woods with music rung 
From beast and bird and human tongue. 
And with the language they possessed 
Each creature felt supremely blessed : — 
'Twas long before proud Babel's fall 
That brought confusion upon all. 



196 

A Serpent, of as large a size 
As e^er was seen by mortal eyes, 
Who long had lived in slimy den 
And made his home in bog and fen, 
Thus to himself did proudly say : 
" ril leave the bogs and fens to-day 
And venture forth in search of prey ; 
I'll seek the plain and prairies wide 
Where mid tall grass my form I'll hide. 
Then up the mountain side I'll go 
To view the world that lays below." 

He started for the prairies wide, 

Crawled up the mountain's craggy side. 

Traversed each plain and valley green, 

In ev'ry swamp his track was seen. 

For years and years he forth did go 

And proud defied each living foe, 

And long he triumphed in the field ; 

His foes unto his power did yield 

Until an Eagle from the sky 

The crawling Serpent did defy : 

Then long and bitter was the fight, 

The Eagle from the realms of light 

Drove back the Serpent to his den 

In gloomy swamp and pois'nous fen ; 

And there he hissed whene'er he sees 

The Eagle on the lofty trees 

Who constant watched the Serpent's track, 

Lest he should stealthy wriggle back 

And try again to seek his prey. 

And swallow those who crossed his way. 

While on a warm autumnal day 
The Serpent in his den did lay. 



197 

The creature forward tried to go 
But his long tail then cried out *' No !" 
" What !'' cried the head in socrnful pride, 
' ' Was I not made the tail to guide ? 
Have I not lead from year to year? 
Have you not followed in my rear? 
What is the cause, now quickly tell, 
Which leads you now thus to rebel? 
Come give the reason, quick, I pray, 
Why you my rapid course delay ?" 

" Why,'" quoth the tail, " the cause is plain. 

What you have lost I wish to gain : 

Once you did roam abroad in pride 

And evVy animal defied. 

While you in pride did sovereign reign 

I graceful followed in your train, 

But when the Eagle sought your track 

And drove you wounded, bleeding, back 

Unto the fens and swamps once more. 

Your head and back all drenched in gore — 

A head that dare not seek the plain 



To Jupiter the tail then prayed. 
And asked the god to lend his aid 
To help the tail the head to guide 
And rule in all its former pride. 
That o'er the prairie and the plain 
The Serpent might in terror reign. 

The god sat on Olympus' crest 
When first he heard the taiPs request. 
And mirthful told the tail, if wanted, 
The bold petition should be granted — 



198 

At which with joy the tail quick said 
" Great Jove, let me be made a head!" 

The tail is changed in great degree, 

A transformation strange to see : 

From slender point it rapid shows 

An open mouth, a serpent's nose, 

A forked tongue that hisses loud, 

And eyes that make the tail feel proud, 

With teeth that bold defiance show 

To evVy animal below, 

And half the scales, 'tis truly said. 

Were changed to aid the new-made head. 

From swamp and fen its poisonous breath 
Might well to animals cause death. 
And thus the tail changed to a head 
In glory upon j^oison fed. 

" Now," says the new head to the old, 
" Let us go forth so brave and bold — 
'Tis now a most propitious hour — 
And meet at once the Eagle's power ; 
You face the east and I the west, 
And soon with vict'ry we'll be blest." 

" Go?" says the old head, -• Where and when? 
Go where you please, Tm in my den : 
When we go forth I lead the way 
Or in my den forever stay." 

" Well," says the new head, " We will see 
Which is the ruler, you or me " — 
Then they began a fearful strife. 
They struggled long for power and life. 



199 

They hiss'd and squirm'd and jawed and bit, 

" And fit and fit, and fit and fit." 

At last a compromise they tried — 

Agreed to travel side by side ; 

But oft the path was narrow found 

And slow their progress o'er the ground ; 

And oft they'd find a bush or tree 

Between the tw^o heads there would be ; 

Then each refused to l^ackward go, 

And thus their spirit sought to show. 

At length exhausted on the ground 

By the young Eagle they were found. 

And as each pulled a different w^ay 

They fell beneath the Eagle's sway. 

And in a short, unequal strife 

To him they yielded up their life. 

MORAL. 

The Democratic party old 
Did always claim that yellow gold 
Must be the base, within the land. 
On which our credit sure could stand. 
On this firm basis Jackson stood, 
And Benton did the claim make good : 
This doctrine w-e will call the head, 
But when at last their power had fled 
And young Republicans held sway 
And all their power had passed away. 
They, like the serpent in the story. 
Were shorn of all their power and glory ; 
Yet constant were their prayers and washes 
That they might seize the loaves and fishes. 
That they might rule the land once more 
As they had done in days of yore. 



200 

But how they could again succeed 
In this the party disagreed ; 
The leaders of the party old 
Claimed credit should be based on gold. 
The nation ne'er would prosperous be 
Till gold and greenbacks did agree : 
This is the doctrine of the head 
Which is by S.J. Tilden led. 

The party west the theory hold 

That greenbacks they'd prefer to gold ; 

The panacea of all ill 

Could they the land with greenbacks fill ; 

That all the evils of the nation 

Would quick be cured by great inflation ; 

That greenbacks should be plenteous made 

To stimulate the wants of trade. 

With paper plenty none would fail — 

This doctrine we will call the tail : 

This party is by Hendricks led, 

'Tis thus the tail against the head. 

These, like the serpent's heads, you see. 

In peace can never well agree : 

While each doth pull a separate way 

Republicans will win the day — 

As did the eagle in the tale 

Who o'er the serpent did prevail — 

And rule the realm with prudent hand 

That shall respect from all command, 

Save those whose prayers and constant wishes 

Are solely for the loaves and fishes, 

Who constant cry and sob and groan 

For public good — but mean their own. 



201 



CHARLES G. EASTMAN. 

WRITTEN AT HIS GRAVE IN GREEN MOUNTAIN CEMETERY, 
MONTPELIER, VT., 1860. 

There is a void in bower and liall 

And grief obscures tlie day, 
A loved one from tlie circle small 

Hath passed from earth away. 

. Death garnered here no whitened sheaf 
Ripe for the sickle keen, 
He garnered here no bud or leaf 
From Spring's fair field's so green. 

A noble oak lies prostrate now, 

It fell in all its pride ; 
Its trunk was sound and green each bough, 

But still, alas ! it died. 

Ah, Eastman, ever kind and true, 

Lies buried 'neath this sod ; 
His soul, we trust, in garments new, 

Has flown to meet his God. 

He had not reached the noon of life, 

His sun knew no decline ; 
His path of life was rendered gay 

By fairest flower and vine. 

His lyre, that late the soul could move 

To smiles and tears at will 
And warm the heart to faith and love, 

Is tuneless now and stilL 



202J 

Now here within this sacred ground" 
He rests in death's cold sleep,. 

And often on this humble mound 
His wife and children weep. 

Bring flowers upon his grave to place, 
And set the trees around ; 

He loved the flowers in all their grace- 
He chose this sacred ground.^ 

Here let him rest where first the sun 

Its morning beams illume, 
And when its glorious race is run 

Last shines on Eastman's tomb..^ 



THE MISTAKE. 

There lately came to Plainfield town 
(A thing that's quite uncommon), 

A very meek and worthy man 
With a modest, pretty woman. 

She ne'er had broke her marriage vow 

By action or omission ; 
She virtuous was as Caesar's wife. 

Likewise above suspicion. 

This modest wife to meeting went 

One holy Sabbath day. 
Her God to worship and adore 

And unto Him to pray. 



1 Eastman was one of the committee that chose the Cemetery- 
ground. 

2 Eastman's grave is on high land in the Cemetery, and receives 
the first beams of the rising and the last rays of the setting sun. 



203 

And there, by chance or accide nt, 

Or "'twas the Devil's plan, 
She sat between a pretty maid 

And a smiling, gay young man. 

This pretty maid and laughing youth 

Fond glances oft exchanged ; 
This virtuous wife beheld the beau — 

Her head was near deranged. 

She thought those smiles and glances sly 

On her were solely bent, 
Which to another maid he gave 

And for another meant. 

Half pleased, half mad, she constant gazed 

Upon the roguish youth ; 
I wish I here could end the tale. 

But I must tell the truth. 

It pleased her that her pretty face 

A stranger's eye could fix : 
She thought upon her husband dear — 

Such thoughts but ill could mix. 

She wondered what the stranger saw, 

In action or in face. 
That he should think his love could find 

With her a resting place. 

The sermon all she did forget, 

Likewise forgot to pray ; 
The glances of those roguish eyes 
Drove other thoughts away. 

That night she did her husband tell 
What the wild youth had done ; 



204 

The husband swore revenge he^d have 
With dagger, sword and gun. 

The husband pounced upon the youth 

As eagle from the skies, 
Alas ! he found those glances bright 

Were meant for other eyes. 

Abashed, confus'd, the husband flies 

Unto his wife so dear, 
And this advice, which all should know, 

He whispered in her ear : 

" When next, my dear, to church you go 

To join with saints in prayer, 
Gaze not upon a smiling beau, 

Nor think there's any there : 

" Then if they smile or glance should give 

On thee they'll harmless fall ; 
And if they find they're not returned, 

They'll give thee none at all." 



205 

ABERCROMBIE\S BATTLE AT LAKE GEORGE. 

WRITTEN AS A SCHOOL EXERCISE IX 1 832. 

[Tlie passage of Abercronibie across Lake George, on liis way 
with his army to Ticonderoga, was effected by means of 1035 boats. 
The splendor of tlie military parade on the occasion was really im. 
•posing, and deserves to be recorded. 

" A late writer. Dr. D wight, thus describes it : 

' The morning was remai-kably bright and beautiful, and thelleet 
moved with exact regularity to the sound of fine martial music. The 
-ensigns waved and glittered in the sunbeams, and the anticipation of 
future ti-iuniph shone in every eye. Above, beneath, and around, the 
scenery was that of enchantment. Rarely has the sun, since that 
luminarv was first lighted up in the Heavens, dawned on such a 
complication of beauty and magnificence.'"— (?oor?r*'o/r.< History of 
the I'nited state.^. Page 1S8.^ 

The day had dawned, the mists of night 
Were changing fast to mellow light : 
The morn's first beams were now at rest, 
Lake George, upon thy peaceful breast — 
Upon thy breast, for now at play 
No billows dance, no zephyrs stray. 
-All natiu-e now is hushed and still, 
No breeze sweeps o"er each lofty hill. 
And throtigh the woods and vales around, 
No music wakes, no echoes sound. 
Except among the distant hills 
Is heard the murmuring of the rills 
As o'er their pebbly beds they flow 
To mingle in the lake below. 

But when the sun in golden pride 
Had decked the distant mountain side. 
Soon as the lucid rays of light 
Had triumphed o'er the shades of night, 
Rich strains of music reach the ear. 
For trumpet, fife and drum we hear 
.18 



206 

United with the bugle's note, 
They on the lake's calm bosom float. 
And echoed from the hills around 
Till distant rocks gave back the sound. 

And now through copse and mountain glen 
A glorious sight the eye may ken ; 
Three times five thousand men are there 
Who arms of proud defiance bear, 
Who in their country's sacred cause, 
To guard her rights, preserve her laws, 
Had left their homes and traveled far 
In forests dark to meet the war ; 
Through dismal swamps and torrents' flow 
They seek a fierce, vindictive foe. 

They seek the foe, naught can restrain 
The passage of the eager train ; 
The deep morass, the swelling flood, 
The thicket dense and waving wood 
Are safely passed, and at the lake 
Short is the pause they deign to make ; 
Their foes are on the further shore 
And soon they'll pass triumphant o'er.. 

Triumphant pass, for scarce the sun. 
Since first his great career begun, 
Has risen on a scene so gay ; 
For Britain's host in proud array 
In full a thousand vessels glide. 
Lake George, upon thy gentle tide ; 
They gaily ride, each whitened sail 
Is spread to catch the fitful gale, 
Their oars to sweetest music play. 
While o'er them many a banner gay 



207 

From staff or masts are waving free, 
As plows the fleet that inland sea. 

Onward they move : above, below, 

All nature wears her brightest glow ; 

The sun on high is shining gay, 

In waves beneath the shadows play. 

For on that calm, romantic lake 

The wind no mountain billows wake ; 

The breeze that murmurs through each shroud 

Scarce waved St. George's banner proud. 

But aided by the laboring oar 

They slowly gain the further shore. 

And as they move along the lake 
They richest strains of music wake, 
Which o'er its breast in concert float 
Till echo answered to each note. 
At first it seemed the mingled hum 
Of clarion, bugle, fife and drum. 
And then a chorus, faint and low, 
Seemed from a thousand boats to flow ; 
And then from all that countless throng 
Was heard to rise a martial song : 

SONG. 

With the trumpet, the luigle, the fife and the drum, 
From the hills of New England, in vengeance we come ; 
Over stream, over mountain, over morass we go 
To seek in the forest Columbia's proud foe. 

We will teach the bold French and their savage allies 
That the sons of New England all danger despise ; 
That with great Abercrombie we'd fearless advance 
Though arrayed to oppose stood the whole host of France. 



208 

Then sound the bold trumpet, awake the loud drum. 
Tell the proud sons of France that in vengeance we come ; 
That impatient we wait till we join in the battle, 
And hear thick around us the cannons loud rattle. 

The music ceased, they gained the shore. 
And soon was heard the cannon's roar ; 
The ready foe their pathway cross 
As springs the wil-dfire from the moss. 
From rank to rank the signal flies. 
From every band bright flames arise ; 
The thundering cannons' awful sound 
From hill to hill re-echo'd round. 
And war with all its dire alarms. 
The shriek, the shout, the din of arms, 
That mingle in the horrid cry 
When patriots for their country die, 
Were heard upon the lake's wild shore 
Where many met to part no more. 

Undaunted by that fearful sound, 

Like tigers on their foes they bound, 

Or lions fierce to guard their young 

In vengeance mid their ranks they sprung ;: 

But firm the sons of France remain 

Unbroken on the sanguine plain. 

Unbroken stood the sons of France 
And fearless still their foes advance. 
They rush upon the leveled guns. 
As water free their life blood runs. 
Their eflbrts all were made in vain. 
The sons of France still firm remain ; 
The Britons seek their fleet once more 
And leave in grief the hostile shore. 



209 

And as they plow again the lake 
Once more their martial strains awake : 
But lost is now the lively notes, 
Though sweeter still the music floats, 
As from the now retiring train 
The dirge is sung for comrades slain : 

DIRGE. 

Farewell to the brave who in battle have died, 
Who won in the fight fame and glory ; 

Farewell to the brave, to Columbia's pride. 
Who long shall be honored in story. 

Undaunted you fought, and nobly you fell, 
Your names shall be honored forever ; 

The deeds of their sires your children shall tell. 
And they shall forget you, O never. 

Farewell then, ye brave, your toils are all done, 
You long shall be honored in story ; 

And crowned with laurels you bravely won, 
You rest in the bed of your glory. 



THE HUNTER BOY. 

Through the broad palmetto groves 
Southern breezes sweetly sigh ; 

Blithe the youthful hunter roves. 
Light his foot and keen his eye. 

Merry is the hunters life. 

Fleet his hounds and sweet his horn 



210 

See him in the sylvan strife^ 
E"er Aurora decks the morn. 

Where the wide savannahs spread 
See the hounds and hunters sweep 

While your city beaux in bed 

Listless, lifeless, dreamless sleep. 

Let me wed my hunter boy, 
Happy then will be my life ; 

You may still the town enjoy, 
Live a maid or be a wife. 

Let me chase the noble deer, 

Carolina, o'er thy plain, 
And my hunter's bugle hear — 

You in palace proud may reign. 



ABSENT MINDED. 

O Lord ! O Lord ! what shall I do ?' 
What is the matter with me ? 

Lve put the sugar on the meat, 
And put the salt into the tea. 

Tve put the raisins in the soup. 
The onions in the puddings are ; 

The soda in the coffee urn. 

The meat is burnt, the bread is rare. 

What can it mean ? what can it mean ? 

Alas I tlie cause I do not know ; 
Once such mistakes I did not make, 

Why do 1 now forgetful grow? 



211 

Ah, me ! since Willie spoke of love, 

Since his blue eyes beamed bright on me, 

I cannot think of aught but him. 
No other sights my eyes can see. 

The meat may burn, the bread be raw, 
The salt and sugar mix at will ; 

For soups or puddings what care I — 
I dearly love my Willie still. 



FRIENDSHIP. 

Friendship, without thy sacred tie 

This world in gloom is drest ; 
How dreary, life, thy moments fly 

Unless by friendship blest. 

The joys of friendship who can tell? 

How short the moments seem 
When friend with friend in union dwells. 

Life seems a happy dream. 

What hallowed feelings fill the breast. 
How pure the thoughts that blend 

When memory, from their long, long rest, 
Brings back some well- loved friend. 

Some friend, perchance, who roams afar 

On Afric's burning plain. 
Or dwells beneath the polar star, 

Or plows the stormy main. 

Though absent, recollection brings 
Them to our arms once more ; 



212 

Each feature into being springs. 
We view them o'er and o'er. 

But though our fates should be apart 

Far as from pole to pole, 
^Tis friendship's tie that binds each heart 

And chains us soul to soul. 
1829. 



S O N C . 

If I were a gem 

In a monarch's diadem, 

Midst gold and purest pearls, 
The place Fd glad resign 
Could rbliss recline 

Mid Lilly's auburn curls. 

If I was a fish 

I constantly would wish 

That she would throw the fly 
I'd bite the naked hook 
To be drawn from the brook 

In Lilly's hands to die. 

If I was a flower 

I'd quit my loved bower. 

The fields and woods resign ; 
On Lilly's brow of snow 
How proudly would I glow 

And mid her ringlets twine. 

If I was a bee 

From wild flowers I'd flee 



213 

On the hill-side sunny^ 
And from my Lilly's lip 
How sweetly would I sip 

The purest of honey. 

If I was a rose 
rd sweetly repose 

On Lilly's gentle breast ;, 
And there without a sigh 
rd languish, fade and die, 

The happiest of the blest,. 

Lm neither gem nor fiower. 
Nor rose from love's fond bower, 

Nor e'en a hsh or bee ; 
I must at distance sigh 
As Lilly passes by 

Without a thougfht of me. 



S O N G . 

Maria was a lovely maid. 
Fair her form and bright her eye ; 

On her cheek was clear displayed 
Lilies" tints and roses' dye. 

Though bewitching was her face, 
Though so lovely to behold. 

Though possessed of every grace. 
Still her heart was vain and cold. 

When abroad she could sing 
Sweetly as the lark in May ; 



214 



She was gayest of the gay. 

When at home her heavenly voice 
Changed to notes so loud and shrill, 

That the inmates did rejoice 
When Maria's voice was still. 

Years have pass'd and from her cheek 
Rose and lily tints have fled, 

And those eyes are dim and weak 
That did once such lustre shed. 

Though her charms have lost their power 
Still her heart will change, O never : 

Till her last, her latest hour 
Will her tongue be shrill as ever. 
1830. 



PRAYER 



WRITTEN ON THE HILL EAST OF ST. JOHNSBURY VILLAGE. 

Father, upon this lofty hill 

My thoughts to Thee I raise ; 
And hear, O hear a suppliant's voice 

In humble prayer and praise. 

Pour out thy spirit on the earth, 

Bless all who dwell therein ; 
Cause each transgressor to reform 

And free the wor4d from sin. 



215 

Teach all who dwell on yonder plain. 

From vice and strife to flee ; 
Teach them in virtue's paths to tread 

And give their hearts to Thee. 

Let not the rich oppress the poor, 

Or scorn their low estate ; 
Let not the poor regard the rich 

With envy, pride and hate. 

Teach not Thy ministers on earth 

Alone to point the way. 
But gently lead and guide their flocks 

Through every passing day. 

Prepare me for the hour of death, 
That when the call is given 

I'll calmly lay me down to rest 
And wake again in Heaven. 
1857. 



ON THE DEATH OF MISS SOPHIA WING. 

Farewell, dear maid ; with streaming eyes 

I take my last, last sad adieu, 
No more to pass the smiling morn, 

No more the pensive eve with you. 

Dim are those eyes that lately shone 
In all the glow of health and youth ; 

Mute is the tongue whose tuneful lay 
Could wake the soul to love and truth. 



216 

O Death ! why couldst thou not delay, 
Or at some other hurl thy dart ? 

"Why call from earth's gay scenes away 
So fair a form, so warm a heart? 

;She was too pure for earthly scenes, 
Eor her this world was all too drear ; 

She's flown to realms of bliss on high, 
The saints to join, the seraphs hear. 

And shall we wish her back to earth — 
To leave the bright abodes above ? 

To share again the cares of life — 
Again its dreary scenes to prove? 

No : from the bright abodes above 
We would not call her soul again. 

But let her with the seraph choir 
On thrones of gold immortal reign. 

Then fare thee well — but ma\- we meet 
In realms of bliss to part no more, 

To sing the praises of the Lamb. 
His name to worship and adore, 
1830. 



217 



QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS. 

WRITTEN AS A SCHOOL COMPOSITION', 1 832. 

What is Life, mortals, tell? 
'Tis a few short years to dwell 
On this earth, where we are 
EvVy day oppressed with care. 
Grief and woe around us lie. 
Peace and joy before us fly ; 
The few pleasures we possess 
Every day are growing less. 
As our youthful limbs decav. 
As our moments waste away, 
Pleasures vanish from our eyes 
Where we thought to find a prize : 
Naught but trouble, toil and care 
Lie beneath its form so fair. 

What is Fame? "Tis a breath- 
Ne'er enjoyed till our death : 
From the living constant straying, 
Like a wily coquette playing — 
Spreading to our view her charms — 
Ever flying from our arms. 

What is Wealth? A heap of dust. 
Who in it will put their trust? 
Will it ease the throbbing breast? 
Will it give the weary rest? 
Will it solace bring to grief? 
Will it give the mind relief? 
Though its outward form is fair 
'Neath its veil is cankering care. 
19 



218 

What is Pleasure but a toy? 
Does it yield a solid joy? 
In its gay scenes can we find 
Charms that satisfy the mind? 

Do we find in the bowl 

That which sooths the troubled soul ?' 

In the dance's mazy round, 

Say, is happiness e'er found? 

What are Mirth and Laughter gay? 
Sounds that quickly pass away 
Leaving not a trace behind, 
Yet they show a vacant mind. 

What is Learning's boasted treasure? 
Say, is it the sweetest pleasure 
That the world has to bestow 
On us mortals here below? 
Does its rugged paths display 
Charms to tempt us on its way? 
Does it pay for years of time 
Wasted in our youthful prime ? 

What is Power, boasted power ? 
'Tis to reign and rule an hour, 
Fed and flattered by the slave. 
Scorned and hated by the brave.. 

What is Wisdom? 'Tis to know 
Bliss is never found below ; 
That the world that seems so fair- 
Nothing has but grief and care ; 
That the thorn and rose are ever- 
Linked too close for us to sever.. 



219 

What is Happiness ? A theme 
Which vain mortals fondly dream 
They shall taste here on earth, 
But 'tis of celestial birth. 
If with man 'tis ever found, 
Spreading peace and joy around, 
'Tis in some sequestered glade 
Where the streamlet 'neath the shade 
Gently murmurs o'er its bed. 
Unpolluted by the tread 
Of the slave of passion wild ; 
Where alone fair Virtue's child 
■Sweetly spends a life of joys 
Far from cities* din and noise. 

What is Time but a day 
Which will quickly pass away? 
Friends and kin are daily going. 
Swift the tide of life is flowing : 
Soon must we a last adieu 
Bid to earthly pleasures, too. 

What is Death? 'Tis a friend. 
When he comes our cares will end ; 
He will bear us far away 
To a purer, happier day, 
Where the sky's cerulean hue 
Will be pleasing to our view ; 
Where our life will pass away 
In one eternal, happy day. 



220 
IN THE CEMETERY.- 

I stand among the dead, 
They slumber at my feet ; 

They wake not at my tread, 
Their sleep is long and sweet. 

No more shall want and woe 
Their peace of mind destroy ; 

No more with pomp and show 
Their hearts shall leap with joy. 

'Tis sweet the crowd to leave 
And commune with the dead ; 

To weep with those who grieve 
For gentle spirits fled. 

Who enter at Death's gate, 

The beggar, prince or peer — 
Whatever his rank or state — 
All, all are equal here. 

When Gabriel's trump shall sound 
And all the dead shall rise, 

And leave this holy ground 
For mansions in the skies ; 

The rich and poor shall there, 

Within that holy place. 
Unite in praise and prayer 

Before the throne of grace. 

The humble and the meek. 
Who never sought renown, 

Who others' welfare seek 

Shall wear the brightest crown.. 



221 



MODERN SATANS. 

[Suggested by hearing a sermon frora the following text : "Again 
there was a day when the Sons of God presented themselves before 
the Lord, and Satan came also among them to present himself before 
the Lord." Job, ch. 2 .1.] 

You need not fear to Satans meet 
With horned heads and cloven feet, 
With subtle tongue and evil mind. 
And tail projecting far behind, 
With fiery breath and sulphurous smell, 
Described as living down in Hell. 

These, like fell goblins grim and gaunt 
That long the fears of childhood haunt, 
Are onl}- tales by priestcraft given 
To fright the timid into Heaven ; 
Search through the Scriptures you will fail 
To Satans find with horns and tail. 

No, no, of such you need not fear 
Should they in costume strange appear, 
There's not a man so lost to grace 
But what would fly from such a face ; 
They have not either charm or spell 
To lead one christian down to Hell ; 
There's not a female old and lewd 
But what to him would be a prude. 

No, think not such a form or face 
The vilest sinner would embrace ; 
But list, my friends, to what I say, 
You'll find the Satans of to-day. 
That haunt around your cottage door. 
Have greatly changed since days of yore ; 



222 

Since in the serpent's form and skin 
At Eden's gate he entered in, 
And showed such wondrous skill and art 
As to beguile fair Eve's young heart, 
Until she yielded to his suit 
And tasted of forbidden fruit. 
And told her husband it was sweet 
And he with her the fruit did eat, 
And they were from the Garden driven 
As Satan from the gates of Heaven. 

In serpent's form he is not seen 

Crawling through woods and meadows green. 

Nor yet with horns and cloven feet 

Do we the modern Satans meet. 

He's left the serpent's form and skin 

To dwell the human form within ; 

Though changed his form, his skin and name 

You'll find his nature still the same. 

But what is wondrous to our view 

You'll find them male and female too ; 

Now what I say pray bear in mind — 

The worst in petticoats you'll find. 

To you I cannot now describe 
The various Satans of each tribe, 
Nor brmg them all before your view, 
But from the number take a few 
And paint to you their form and face 
As perfect samples of the race. 

First, see yon man with smiling face. 
Of noble form and manly grace. 
With faultless dress, majestic mien. 
Now driving o'er the village green. 



22' 



He loves to hear his townsmen praise- 
His gilded coach, his prancing bays. 
And see them gaze with wond'ring eyes 
As o'er the pavement swift he flies. 

Satan within tliat form so fair 

Has found a home with pleasures rare, 

Where he his victim daily tries 

And seldom fails to win the prize. 

The way he leads them down to Hell 

I now to you will truly tell, 

And when IVe told one road you'll know 

That leads our youth to endless woe. 

His house is open free to all 
Who on this man desire to call ; 
Here mirth and music cheer the heart 
And sparkling wines their joys impart ; 
And gin and rum unite their power 
To joyous make each passing hour.. 
There first the youth is taught to knovr 
The pleasure that from wine-cups flow. 
And when the evening feast is o'er 
Next they must view his liquor store 
And taste his wines of vintage rare. 
Selected with the greatest care ; 
Then every art on them he'll try 
To have them his pure liquors buy — 
'Twill give them health, improve the mind 
And from it they will blessings find ; 
'Tis good, he'll say, for every ill, 
And cures beyond the doctor's pill. 

When yau have quaff'd the flowing bowl 
That wastes your wealth, and damns your soul, 



224 

Of sudden wealth to you he'll tell. 
And lead you to his gambling hell ; 
With drink and cards, exciting play, 
The night at last has passed away 
And morning finds your deep distress. 
Alone, quite drunk, and penniless : 
An outcast now you seem to be 
Dependent on cold charity. 

A Satan in yon merchant see, 
Who serves his master faithfully ; 
By every artifice, Fm told, 
He fast on earth is gath'ring gold ; 
His thoughts to sordid gain are given. 
He lays no treasures up in Heaven. 

His tricks I cannot tell you all — 
His yard is short, his measure small, 
His weights are light, his scales a cheat. 
Still he's polite and smiles so sweet. 
On Sundays he can sing and pray 
And point to you the christian's way ; 
Of truth and virtue proudly speaks 
While he to cheat you constant seeks. 
The rule by which his wealth was made 
Is, " Any lie is fair in trade.""" 

Of honesty he talks with ease. 
Then sells you " Java'" made of peas : 
One half his ginger, you can see. 
Never was brought across the sea ; 
He's not a thing that's pure, they say. 
His sugars all are mixed with clay ; 
His soap that's made for hands and face 
You'll find that clav doth form the base : 



225 

Of liquors view liis stock in trade, 
Of vilest stuff you'll find them made, 
Potash and strychnine there you'll find. 
With poisonous drugs of every kind. 
You'll find his boasted gin and rum 
From distillation never come ; 
If liquor pure is used at all 
The portion used is very small ; 
'Tis just enough the taste to cheat 
And cover up the vile deceit ; 
Still, while he strives his goods to sell,. 
Their purity he'll constant tell. 

He's pleasant, courteous and polite. 
To trade with him he'll you invite ; 
If you are good he'll trust, he'll say. 
He'd rather trust than have his pay : 
But you to him must sharply look 
If once your name is on his book ; 
To ascertain your wants he'll try 
And charge you what you ought to buy,. 
Until the farm you think your own 
Forever from your grasp has flown : 
His book and oath the court sustain 
However loudly you complain : 
He's countless wealth by fraud obtained. 
He's numerous farms by knavery gained. 
Though he is cursed by all the poor 
The rich are constant at his door ; 
And e'en the priest is oft seen there 
To blessings ask and join in prayer. 
See, as he rides the streets in state, 
He's honored by the rich and great : 
The rich man tells his sons the story 
How this man won his fame and glory^ 



226 

-And takes great pains with them to show 
How they can in his footsteps go, 
And follow out the glorious plan 
To be a shrewd and wealthy man : 
That wealth in some way must be gained, 
It matters little how obtained. 

In yonder form a Satan see, 
A form of perfect symmetry ; 
His dress is perfect, modest face, 
With curling hair and form of grace. 
His broadcloth coat in Paris made. 
White kids upon his hands displayed ; 
His French-calf boots in splendor shine, 
His hands show gems from every mine ; 
Ruby and topaz there are seen, 
With diamond's blaze and emeralds green. 
He might for young Adonis pass 
As thus he stands before the glass, 
The pride of belles, the dread of beaux. 
Honored and feasted where he goes : 
At his approach each maiden sighs, 
-And mammas aid to win the prize. 

Yet he no noble act hath shown. 
And virtue at his touch hath flown : 
The serpent that sought Eden's shade, 
-And over Eve such power displayed. 
Must to this Satan yield his crown 
And envy him his great renown. 
His voice is sweet, he sings and plays. 
While on his form fair maidens gaze ; 
His voice, his beauty, and his art, 
-Has triumphed over many a heart. 



227 

That he has ruined, cast aside, 
Like things unworthy of his pride, — 
As gloves that he has worn a day 
Which soon as soiled are thrown away.. 

No lovely maidens curse his name,. 
His victims bear alone the shame ; 
The gay seducer's arts they tell, 
His victims do as outcasts dwell ; 
And 'tis their glory and their pride 
To sit by the seducer's side "* 

And, while with blushes glow each cheek,. 
Of his late victims taunting speak : 
Like moths that in the candle fly 
They rush into his arms to die. 

But look again ; see Satan there 

With rosy cheeks and flowing hair. 

With laughing eyes and modest mien, 

With form 'twould grace an Eastern queerL. 

See little hands and neck of snow, 

But veil your eyes — the dress is low ! 

Now turn from face that looks so sweet 

And gaze upon those little feet. 

Those dainty shoes so beauteous are 

That Cinderella well might wear. 

How rich her dress, such skill and taste 

Not oft so fair a form has graced ; 

She seems an angel to us given 

To guide the doubting soul to Heaven.. 

She is no angel, truth I tell, 

But is the foulest fiend of Hell : 

A siren, she, in vilest den, 

Who daily sets her snares for men — 



228 

Her snares for all who wealth can show 
Or goodly gifts on her bestow. 
Husbands and lovers are her prize 
Regardless of their dear ones" cries. 
Wherever beauteous sirens dwell 
They make the place a perfect Hell ; 
One female Satan, gay and fair. 
Is worse than fifty male ones are. 

These are the Satans that we dread 
Who here on earth their influence spread ; 
While fifty de'ils with horns and tail 
To lead one man to Hell would fail 
One female Satan's charms and spell 
Would fifty lead to gates of Hell. 

Of modern Satans pray beware 

And shun them all with greatest care, 

And morn and evening constant pray 

That female Satans keep away 

And leave you free from da}- to da}- — 

You ne'er through life in fear should quail 

At thought of de'ils with horns and tail. 



229 

THE FIRE. 

WRITTEN DURING THE POLITICAL CAMPAIGN OF 1860. 

The fire is raging wild 

Cer every prairie West ; 
It glows above the pines 

On every mountain crest. 

Along the broad Pacific 

You hear its crackling oar ; 
It shines in every place 

Along the eastern shore. 

It sweeps along each river, 
Each brook and rippling rill ; 

It shines upon each lake, 
And o'er each vale and hill. 

'Twas Freedom set the fire 

That sweeps each wood and plain ; 

It glows in every place 
From Oregon to Maine. 

There's Lincoln in the West, 

A loved and honored name, 
And Hamlin in the East, 

Are spreading wide the flame. 

'Tis sweeping o'er Missouri, 

Kentucky's in a blaze ; 
O'er Virginia's mountains 

The flame in terror plays. 

20 



280 

The southern planter trembles 
And starts in wildest fright, 

As on the North he gazes 
And sees the brilliant light. 

Buchanan sees the Hame, 
Now rising high and higher, 

While tears bedew his cheeks 
He's crying " Fire ! fire ! fire !" 

*'Oh, ring the bells, my boys!'" 
In anguish deep he cries ; 

"Oh, see the flame is sweeping 
Towards the southern skies. 

"Oh, bring the engines quick, 
My southern fiiends so true, 

To stop this raging fire 
I now dei:)end on you. 

-' There's Douglas, once so true 

On every field of toil. 
See, see the traitor now 

For water pours on oil ! 

"Ah, Davis, Wise, and Tonibs, 

And ev'ry gallant name. 
Who long have proudly stood 

To stop the rising flame, 

" You cannot stop its rage — 
The flame spreads fast each night, 

Our broken ranks in fear 

Must save themselves by flight." 



231 



THE WREATH. 

This fairy wreath I've braided, 

Have braided love for thee, 
That when from home I chance to roam 

That you may think of me. 

'Tis twined of flowers the ftiirest 

In field or garden found ; 
The richest and the rarest. 

For long Fve searched around. 

I've searched each wood and glen, 

Each valley, dale and hill ; 
Along each river wandered. 

And by each rippling rill. 

To cull the flowers Tve braided 

Aurelia's brow to grace — 
The loveliest of the lovely, 

The fairest of her race. 

A handsome rose I've twined. 

Of purity the sign ; 
The lilac and the violet. 

The pink and eglantine. 

The lily of the valley. 

The myrtle and moss rose, 
And every lovely flower 

In field or garden grows. 

This wreath so fair and lovely 
Upon thy brow Pll set, 



232 

Amid thy flowing ringlets 
Of pure and glossy jet. 

Upon thy brow Til place it, 

A lover's offering ; 
A tribute of affection, 

Which from the heart doth spring. 

A token of remembrance 

When I am far away ; 
When in distant lands I roam, 

O'er distant mountains stray. 

Then shall this wreath remind her. 
Though fled its lovely hue, 

That he will love forever 
Who bids her now adieu. 
1833. 



HOME. 

I love my home, my happy home. 

Upon the flowery lea ; 
I love my home, my humble home, 

Beneath the spreading tree. 

I love when " weary, fu' o' care," 
And vexed with ills of life. 

To seat me in my old arm chair 
Beside my loving wife. 

I love from toil and strife to flee 
To that sequestered place. 



233 

To hold my children on my knee 
And view each smiling face. 

I love to hear each merry voice 
In mirth and music gay. 

And hear my children all rejoice 
As on the lawn they play. 

No scene of pride or hour of mirth 

To me is half so dear, 
As seated by my humble hearth 

With wife and children near. 
1857 



TO MAI LA. 

Farewell, Maila, we must part, 

Heave the sigh and bid adieu, 
But this sad, this throbbing heart, 

Long will beat, fair maid, for you. 

Long will beat, fair maid— O never 
Time or distance can have power 

My warm love from thee to sever 
Till life's last, last parting hour. 

What though foreign lands you tread ? 

What though distant is thy home? 
The' pleasure's scenes are round me spread. 

Still, still my thoughts to thee will roam. 

Yes, unto you, as to the pole, 
The needle points forever true. 



234 

So will my heart, my dearest maid, 
For e^er be constant unto you. 

Then fare tliee well ; may peace be thine, 
May fortune strew thy path with flowers ; 

May Virtue, with her hand divine. 

Keep thy young steps from Vice gay bowers. 

And may you soon return to grace 

The scenes where you so lately moved. 

And in thine own, thy native place, 

Bless thy true swain whose love is proved. 



TO THANKFUL. 

My dear, how thankful should I be 
Could I but spend my days with thee 

In some fit place ; 
Since thou hast gone my heart doth pine 
Again to clasp that form of thine 

In love's embrace. 

Dear maid, my heart was gay and free 
Before I chanced to meet with thee, 

And knew not woe ; 
But Cupid now doth o'er it reign, 
He's bound it with a silken chain 

And won't let go. 

Though round me many a maid I see, 
;I turn from all to think of thee, 

My dearest friend ; 
To think that e'er a year is o'er 
That we shall meet to part no more 

Till time shall end. 



285 

Then o'er the lake or inland sea 
I'll fly, dear girl, to meet with thee 

In thy new home; 
And through the rest of this short life, 
A husband dear and loving wife, 

Toiiether roam. 



THE CHANGE. 

Why sits Mary by the fire 

Gazing on the embers burning ? 

Why from friends does she retire, 
Mirth and gaiety now spurning? 

Late the gayest of the gay, 

Wildest in both hall and bower; 

Now she steals from mirth away. 
Silent sits from hour to hour. 

When she mingled in the dance 
Late her voice rang clear and loud ; 

Now she shuns the merry glance 
Of the gay and thoughtless crowd. 

Late she sought the flowery lea 
While the clew was on the rose ; 

Now she shuns both flower and tree. 
In her chamber seeks repose. 

What has changed her step so light? 

Tamed her heart so gay and wild? 
Willie's eyes, so keen and bright, 

Willie's voice so sweet and mild. 



SONC;— CiRKKN MOUNTAINS- 

I love my own (ireen Mountains. 

Where grow the lofty pines. 
Above whose silver fountains 

The sun so brightl\' shines. 

I love to view each river 

That through thy valleys flow. 

And see thy forests quiver 
When gentle breezes blow. 

1 love thy hills and waters, 

I love thy sons still more, 
Thy matrons and thy daughters 

I love and I adore. 

If Asia's mounts are higher 
And ever crowned with snow, 

And Europe's air is milder 

Where vines do blushing grow : 

If Africa possesses 

The myrtle and the mine ; 
And the eye (iolconda blesses 

With gems that purest shine : 

They may boast their mounts and waters* 

Their gems and balmy air, 
But ah ! their sons and daughters 

With ours can ne'er compare. 

I love my own Green Mountains. 

Where grow the lofty pines, 
Above whose silver fountains 

The sun so brightly shines.. 



237 

"WELCOME TO SHERIDAN. 

WRITTEN ON THE OCCASION OF HIS VISIT TO MONTPELIER. 

Welcome to you, Sheridan, 
You did the victVy plan, 
You led the battle van 

On fields stained with gore ; 
You the Vermonters led, 
Where her bravest sons bled, 
Where fell her honored dead. 

By the Shenandoah. 

You often Early sought. 
You often Early fought, 
And to grief the rebels brought 

'Neath bloody Stars and Bars ; 
Turned by your glittering brand, 
Through all the southern land, 
East fled each rebel band 

From the Stripes and Stars. 

Let history tell the story 
•Of all your deeds of glory, 
'On battle-fields made gory. 

Which time shall never mar ; 
But a fairer page is thine, 
-And a gayer wreath we'll twine 
.And your fame will brightest shine 

For brave deeds since the war. 

To Vermont we welcome thee. 
Thou champion of the free 
Who doth worship liberty 
Though war's clouds lower; 



288 

We'll take you by the hand. 
Who so gallantly doth stand 
To guard each Union band 
From gory Treason's power. 



THE REBEL WAIL. 

A wail is on the southern air. 

A wail across the sea : 
A rebel wail the breezes bear,. 
A w^ail of woe and fell despair 

Wherever traitors be. 

A wail of fear, of want and fjain,. 

A wail of grief and care : 
It sweeps along each southern plain,. 
'Tis heard from o'er the stormy main 

Prom every traitor there. 

It comes from Cieorgia's fertile land. 

Where her broad rivers flow. 
Where Sherman's gallant vetYan band 
Before Savannah made a stand 
And humbled the proud foe. 

'Tis heard from Charleston's burning halls. 

Which late the world defied. 
And from Columbia's blackened walls, 
Where Sherman's host the foe appalls 

And spreads destruction wide. 

It comes from North Car'lina's shore 
As mourners at the grave ; 



289 

The pride of Wilmington is o'er. 

The stripes and stars to re verm ore 

Above her towers shall wave. 

It comes from Richmond's crowded street. 

Where Davis reigns in pride : 
Where want and woe you constant meet. 
And starving women oft entreat 
With bread to be supph'ed. 

But louder still that wail shall be 

That floats along the air, 
Until the starry flag you see 
Float o'er a land from slaver)- free 

And And no traitors there, 
April 2, 1865. 



CHRISTMAS HYMN. 

WKnTPJN KOK TMK SUNDAN' SCHOOL. 

Father, little children see 

Gathered here to worship Thee. 

On this eve before the morn 

When the Son of (xod was born. 

Listen to our simple lays 

While our lips shall sing Thy praise — 

Thy praise that Thou to us hast given 

Thy Son to guide our steps to Heaven. 

He o'er our acts a watch doth keep 

And guards -our pillows while we sleep; 

Now unto Him we come to bring 

The little children's oflering 

Of little hearts all rilled with love 



240 

For Christ who dwells with Thee above 

Who, while on earth required to stay, 

Did unto his disciples say 

" Let little children come to me, 

For such the blest in Heaven must be.'" 



THE TRIUMPH. 

[The following lines were written on hearing that Pennsylvania, 
Indiana and Ohio had, at their state elections held the day before, 
all given Republican majorities.] 

The sky is bright ! Hurrah ! Hurrah ! 

The sky is bright to-day ; 
The clouds that veiled fair Freedom's sun 

Have quickly passed away. 

■["he shouts that float upon the air 

Above the land of Penn, 
P'rom Indiana's prairies wide 

Are answered back again. 

And from Ohio's hills and vails 

You hear the echoing cry. 
The flag her brave sons died to save 

In dust shall never lie. 

Then wake the bugle, fife and drum^ 

And bid the cannon roar, 
And let the song of jubilee 

Resound from shore to shore. 
October 12, 1864. 



241 



THE PEACOCK AND THE OWL: A FABLE. 

^'RITTEN FOR THE BENEFIT OF A YOUNG COQUETTE. 

The drifted snow, the piercing blast, 
The winter months were gone at last, 
And Spring with all her smiling train 
In gayest dress had decked the plain. 
The groves put on their purest green, 
The vales were clothed in brightest sheen ; 
The songsters ranged on every spray 
Beguiled the tedious hours away. 
There all the birds of every name, 
Whose notes were ever known to fame. 
In that warm glen in early spring 
Had met their sweetest notes to sing. 

There the Sparrow poured his throat. 
There the Linnet adds her note, 
And the Mavis and the Thrush 
Swelled the song from yonder bush : 
Here the Robin wakes delight. 
There the Owl disturbs the night ; 
While from yonder stately tree 
Philomel adds melody. 

In this Vale of Love so true 
('Tis the truth I tell to you) , 
Naught of War was ever known. 
Love in triumph reigned alone. 
Here the Falcon joined the throng. 
Here the Eagle swept along, 
And the Hawk here walked in pride 
With the Peacock by his side. 
21 



242 

In each breast no terror dwelt, 
Naught but love alone they felt. 

Here, as in some country town, 
Females dwelt of high renown 
In the arts of coquetry — 
Which in birds and belles agree. 
Here Miss Peacock proudly shone, 
For a rival she had none 
Who could boast so many hearts 
Broken by her wily arts. 

She, to conquer, deigned to listen, 
While her eyes would brightly glisten, 
To the songsters at her feet 
Pouring forth their love so sweet — 
Songs of flattery in her ear 
Which she'd condescend to hear. 
Oft an hour shed pass away 
With the Sparrow light and gay. 
Next the Blackbird, billing, cooing. 
Then the Jay and Cat-bird wooing. 
She would with the small birds play 
And proudly bear the palm away ; 
Happiness beamed from her eyes 
When she seized the worthless prize- 
Once while sporting in the vale, 
Listening to some flattering tale,. 
Near an ancient oak she drew 
Where, exposed before her view,. 
Sat an Owl, sedate and wise. 
Shaded from the azure skies 
By the foliage green and gay 
Which repelled the sun's bright ray- 



243 

There the Owl with glaring eyes 
Saw the bird with great surprise; 
As he looked his anger rose, 
High and higher still it grows ; 
He at last the silence broke, 
To the Peacock thus he spoke : 

""Coquette, hear me while I speak, 
Tis your happiness I seek ; 
List to one who cannot lie. 
One who with a prophet's eye 
Sees the misery, grief and fears 
Which will come in future years. 
True your yeart is light and gay. 
Sweet thy hours now glide away, 
But pursue the course begun 
Soon, oh, soon you are undone. 
If you are so condescending. 
With the vilest rabble blending, 
Low and lower you must sink 
Till you stand upon the brink 
Of the gulf of woe and grief. 
Where, alas ! there's no relief. 

*' You are deck'd in gayest pride, 
Worthy to become the bride 
Of the proudest bird that flies 

-Sweeping through the azure skies. 
Thy bright train and lofty crest 
Might inspire within the breast 
Of the Nightingale so true 
Love that's worthy him and you. 

'Or perchance your colors bright 
Well might please the Eagle's sight; 



244 

But the monarch would disdain 
Mingling with the rabble train. 
No ; that bird will never stoop 
To a level with the troop 
That are round you all the while^ 
And your every thought beguile. 
Shun them all, and know thy place. 
Banish from thee all the race 
Of the vulgar, low and mean. 
Thou art then fair Beauty's queen." 



MOKAL. 

The maid who'd gain a man of sense 
Should never on a slight pretense 

Mix with the vulgar crew ; 
For then no man of gentle birth'. 
Of real genius, sterling worth,. 

Will have vou if vou do. 



Then keep, oh, keep within the sphere 
Where you were destined to appear 

And shun the path, of woe ; 
For if you fall in thoughtless hour. 
By force of gravitation s power 

You deep and deeper go. 

As rocks when rent from Andes" height 
From crag to crag in. rapid flight 

Fall to the lowest glen, 
So she who stoops to join the throng- 
Will find this truth — and that e'er long- 
She's lost all worthy men. 



245 



SONG, 

He sat by the window next the street. 

The sun was shining gay ; 
He sat by the window next the street. 

His thoughts were far away. 

He sat by the window next the street, 
Where maidens passed in glee ; 

He sat by the window next the street. 
The maids he did not see. 

He sat by the window next the street, 

His head on the window lay ; 
He sat by the window next the street. 

His thoughts were far away. 

His thoughts were oiT among the hills. 

In that enchanted ground ; 
His thoughts were oif among the hills, 

A cottage there is found. 

His thoughts were off where mid the hills 

A lovely arbor stood : 
His thoughts were off among the hills, 

Beyond the shady wood. 

His thoughts were off among the hills 
Where breathes the balmy air ; 

His thoughts were off among the hills 
Where dwells a maiden fair. 

He sat by the window next the street 
And dreamed his loved one near ; 



246 

He sat by the window next the street, 
He seemVl her voice to hear. 

He sat by the window next the street, 
The wind with his locks did play ; 

He sat by the window next the street, 
The vision passed away. 

He sat by the window next the street, 
The sun on his tresses played ; 

He's left the window next the street 
And gone to seek the maid. 



CUPID DEFIED. 

Fair maid, I fear not 'Cupid's keenest dart,. 
He cannot pierce my adamantine heart, 
And all his skill in archery I defy, 
Against this breast his bolts will harmless fly.. 

What though Maila's face is heavenly fair? 
Though nothing earthly can with it compare? 
Yet soon as e'er she doth the silence break 
Such nonsense flows that we the maid forsake. 

What though fair Zelia has a dazzling wit, 
And we to gain her would all others j$juit? 
But, unexpected, call to pass the day. 
Her slattern looks will drive all love away. 

And what though Crassus' daughter we behold'; 
Arrayed in silks, the heir of lands and gold? 
Say, can you love her, can you patient bear 
Her haughty look and more than tyrant air? 



247 

Such are the boasted maids 3 ou sometimes meet 
With scores of lovers prostrate at their feet : 
Say, unto such shall I as suppliant sue? 
No: reason will have left me when I do. 

Then where \s the danger? where, 1 think you say? 
View yonder maid who keeps from crowds away ; 
With modest, courteous mien and downcast eyes^ 
Who from the vain and worthless coxcomb flies. 

True there is danger should I thoughtless meet 
A modest maid, with temper calm and sweet, 
And should I e'er by chance meet such a lass 
My heart Til guard with shield of triple brass. 



TAKE BACK THE RING. 

Take back this ring, false-hearted man. 
Which late you gave to me : 

Yes, take it back, and if I can, 
ril think no more of thee. 

But oh, my heart can ne'er forget, 
(The thought will always linger) 

That happy hour you loving set 
This ring upon my finger. 

How can that hour, that happy hour. 

Be e'er forgot by me, 
When you in love (at least 1 thought )- 

Before me bent the knee. 

You called on all the powers above. 
You bade them witness be 



248 

"That from that hour, that happy hour, 
You Hved for only me. 

I heard your vow, I bade you rise, - 

And sat you by my side ; 
Then naught but love beamed from your eyes, 

My heart on thine relied. 

You placed this ring upon my hand 

To prove your love sincere ; 
I felt my heart with hope expand, 

I thought you loved me dear. 

How could I otherwise believe 

Thy words and acts combined ? 
Who would have thought you could deceive 

A maiden's heart so kind ? 

But you, alas ! as false as fair, 

Have tied from me away, 
And left my heart to cankering care 

And fell despair a prey. 

Then take this ring, false-hearted man, 

Which late you gave to me ; 
Yes, take it back, and if I can, 

I'll think no more of thee. 



249 



TO LILLY. 

written in answer to a request to write in a 
lady's album. 

Dear Lilly, why ask me to write — 
Ask one who's no friend of the muse 

To stain this fair paper so white 
With lines for you to peruse? 

Ls there anything new I can write ? 

Is there aught that has never been told ? 
Can I a lone sentence indite 

Which your eves did never behold? 

Shall I write upon beauty and youth ? 

Their charms have been told o'er and o'er : 
Shall I write of fair virtue and truth? 

No bard but has sung them before. 

Dear Lilly, then what shall I do? 

If I flatter, thy sense will detect it ; 
And if I should slander, then, too, 

The sense of thy friends would reject it^ 

Should I say thou art fair, it would be 

A tale thou hast oft heard before : 
E'en thy mirror hath told it to thee 

A thousand times over and o'er. 

Should I say that fair virtue hath built 

Her throne in thy bosom so pure. 
Where pride or deception or guilt 

Could never a moment endure — 



250 

Would this to thy friends be aught new? 

To thy friends who have known thee of yore. 
Or e'en to the strangers who view 

Thy features but carelessly o'er? 

Then, Lilly, say what shall I write. 
Come give me the subject, I pray, 

And ni hasten the lines to indite, 
Will write without further delay. 
1832. 



BARBARA FRIETCHIE. 

[The following lines were written on reading that the authorities 
•of Frederick sburgh, Virginia, had torn down old Barbara Frietchie's 
dwelling house in that city and had turned the course of th ■ river so 
as to have it run where the hoise had stood, to prevent the lovers of 
freedom from visiting it as one of the Temples of Liberty. Believ- 
ing the report to be true, 1 Avrote the lines annexed.] 



TheyVe torn that ancient dwelling down 

Where Barbara Frietchie's flag waved free. 
When Stonewall Jackson through the town 
. Led forth the southern chivalry. 

Jackson beneath its folds passed on, 
Though traitor, he was just and brave, 

He left the flag in Frietchie's hands 
Free o'er her humble home to wave. 

Jackson now fills a soldiers bed. 

And Frietchie sleeps on yonder plain ; 

The rebel power is past and dead — 
Never on earth to rise again. 



251 

That house from which old Frietchie flung 
The star-decked banner on the air, 

In ev'ry land its fame is sung, 

And Freedom led her pilgrims there. 

The rebel power has passed away, 
And naught is left but rebel spleen. 

And in its ranks we find to-day 

None but the low, the base and mean. 

That spirit low and base and mean 
Holds carnival in Frederickstown, 

Where rebel hate and rebel spleen 

Have torn old Frietchie\s dwelling down. 

See with what wild and fiendish joy 

The workmen labor to efface, 
And ev'ry mark and sigh destroy 

Of Barbara Frietchie's dwelling place. 

TheyVe dug the very earth away 

Where her poor dwelling lately stood ; 

'Neath where her banner wav'd so gay 
Now rolls the river's rapid flood. 

Ye men who Frederick rule to-day. 
You can't efface^ld Frietchie's name ; 

For history's pen and poet's lay 

Each coming year shall swell her fame. 

Your hate can tear her dwelling down 
And make its place a river's bed ; 

The act will ever curse your town 
Long after you sleep with the dead. 



252 

Until the end of time shall come 

The pilgrim's toot your streets shall press, 
To gaze where stood old Frietchie's home — 

There d — n vour town and Frietchie bless. 




